Clinging to Life
by NewPaladin
Summary: AU: Fado barely survives the Fall of Renais and together with an old friend of his and a small group of survivors they flee from the capital. In search for an explanation, Fado joins Ephraim's army to take Vigarde to task and learn the truth.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: After talking about it for a while already, now I'm posting the first chapter of my big AU; Fado survives the fall of Renais. I have some things already planned out in my head and I hope that having something already posted will motivate me to actually write that down. We'll see how that goes Anyway, I'm really enjoying writing this, especially the parts where Fado and Ephraim meet (in Chp. 3). Yay 8D

* * *

_In the flurry of everything that happened – the attack, the battle, his predicament and near death – the thing that got stuck in his mind the most was that Vigarde beat him in a duel._

Seconds after Seth had dragged Eirika out of the room, Fado heard his men´s screams echoing through the corridors. He gritted his teeth hard and clutched at the hilt of his sword. His men had put down their weapons but they were still murdered? Anger flushed his skin red. He couldn't believe that Vigarde could possibly lead this army. He would never tolerate monsters like this.

His belief in his friend quickly started to sway when after two handful of Grado soldiers, Vigarde entered the throne hall. Tall, dark in his purple clothes and armour, and his hard gaze directed at Fado. The Gradian soldiers had almost immediately overpowered the now defenceless Renaitian men. A shiver of rage ran up Fado´s back when he heard their dying cries and saw blood tainting the ground. The air was polluted with the smell of death.

"Vigarde..." He took a step forward. None of the soldiers tried to stop him; instead they stepped back and turned to their emperor.

"Surrender and I grant you a painless death," Vigarde said in a voice that made Fado involuntarily shudder. His anger didn't let him investigate this strange feeling, though, and so he only raised his sword, aiming its tip between Vigarde´s eyes.

"What are you doing here? Have you not already got what you wanted when you raided the temple and destroyed the Sacred Stone?" Fado struggled to keep himself from swearing like a sailor.

"Where is the real stone?" Fado snorted dismissively.

"What are you talking about? The stone was in the temple."

"The stone was fake. Where is the real stone?" Vigarde repeated in a monotonous voice.

"Why do you want to destroy it?"

"That is none of your business."

Fado barred his teeth. "Is that so? You are invading my country, you are killing my citizen and you dare to say that it is _none of my business_!" His voice boomed and echoed in the throne hall. In the corner of his eyes he saw a small figure startle lightly behind Vigarde, but he didn't care. His furious gaze was fixed on Vigarde´s dull eyes. A tiny voice in the back of his mind yelled at Fado that this was strange, that he had been always able to read Vigarde´s feelings even when he wanted to hide them. The voice, however, was drowned out by a growl from deep within Fado´s chest, elicited by Vigarde´s answer.

"Yes."

"Bastard!" As his mind was blanking, Fado jumped forward and swung his sword against Vigarde´s head. This man was not his friend and if a sword in his chest was the only way to wake him up, so be it.

Vigarde blocked the attack easily; Fado grunted annoyed – at himself, because that was an awfully easy blow to block – and thrust forward again to try to pierce Vigarde´s shoulder between his armour before he could recover. In the last second Vigarde yanked up his axe, slapped Fado´s sword up and away, and sent Fado stumbling backwards. Fado was startled by the sheer force throwing him backwards. He had barely regained his footing as Vigarde swung his heavy axe against Fado´s unprotected head. He ducked and jumped to the side.

_Why is he so strong?_

Vigarde quickly advanced – Fado raised his sword in defence. _How could he suddenly-_ His train of thought was interrupted by a heavy axe connecting with his sword; his arms shook at the force. A slight sense of panic crept up Fado´s spine. Something was not right. Vigarde pulled back and attacked again so fast that Fado could barely do anything. In a matter of seconds he was forced into the role of a defender without getting the chance to retaliate.

_This is not Vigarde._ He panicly thought as he ducked another blow. _Vigarde hasn't been that strong for years!_ Suddenly he felt pain and blood was trickling over his cheek; Vigarde had barely missed his left eye. Fado took a step back and shifted away but it was too late: Vigarde swung low in an upwards arc. A white flash of pain jolted through Fado´s whole being and he screamed loudly as the sharp metal of the axe cut through his flesh, tendons and muscles. Disoriented and mind blank with pain, his left hand flew up to the wound. He yowled when his gloved fingers touched the raw flesh and felt the bone sticking out. Involuntarily his gaze glued itself to the stump that once was his right arm. It was almost cleanly cut off at his arm bend; his right hand, lying lifelessly on the ground, was still holding his sword. For a second Fado saw only red, then white. His mind whirled with pain and sickness, his mouth standing wide open as he gasped for air.

"It's over." Then everything became black and distinctively he felt his body falling to the ground.

###

He was slumping on a chair when he awoke later. Fado wished he could've slept longer; his whole body was a bundle of pain and the strange and unreal feeling that something of him was missing made his stomach do flips. His head throbbed painfully and his mouth was so dry that his tongue seemed to be glued to the bottom of his mouth. While Fado was inwardly discussing if he should try to force his eyes open and if that would make him throw up, he heard a door opening and several metal-covered feet entering – his heart beat quickened and his breathing became short and hasty. A few seconds later a gloved hand seized his throat.

"Where is the stone?" Fado gasped for air as the grip tightened. Involuntarily his eyes fluttered open and between the flickering white dots he could see purple. The hand around his neck loosened a bit.

"I don't know wha-" His air was cut off again.

"Where is the stone?"

"Hidden," Fado spat out as soon as he could breathe.

"Where?"

"Why don't you look for yourself?" he hissed just before he was punished again.

"Then we will ask Princess Eirika and Prince Ephraim. They surely know." The coldness in Vigarde´s voice and the sole thought of his children in Grado´s clutches made Fado shudder.

"They know nothing," he whispered and wriggled to escape Vigarde´s grip. He winced when his body and especially his arm protested vehemently.

"We'll see that when we have them." Panicked, Fado felt Vigarde´s hand leaving and heard the metal of his boots scrape over the ground; Eirika surely wasn't far away enough by now; they would find her immediately. He had to buy her time, no matter how. It was the last thing he could do for her.

"Who are you!" Even though he could barely see, he noticed that the air in the room changed; there was a certain tenseness around him. He wasn't exactly sure why – who would've thought that his bluff actually seemed to have an effect on them – but he would sure use it to his advantage.

"What do you mean?" Fado heard Vigarde coming back. He tried to push himself up into an upright position so that he would have at least some dignity in death.

"You aren't Vigarde. I don't know who you are, but you are not him."

"Nonsense." Fado chuckled; it sent hundreds of little needles through his body but it was worth it.

"If you really were Vigarde..." he added a pause for effect, "then you'd know where the stone is."

"What?" someone asked from somewhere in the room. Fado was too weak to look who that was and he was too occupied by two conflicting feelings; he was gloating that this was working, but somehow he seemed to have hit a nerve. Was he somehow right and this wasn't the real Vigarde? _But how would that work? If that truly is someone dressing up as Vigarde, he must be his twin._

"What are you talking about?" Vigarde was standing directly in front of Fado now, the tips of their shoes touching. Despite his fuzzy vision, he tried to catch Vigarde´s gaze.

"I was once a foolish boy, who loved secrets but couldn't keep them because the greatest fun was the exciting feeling of sharing a secret with a friend." A probably very pained smile which was supposed to be gleeful appeared on Fado´s face. "The real Vigarde would know."

There was a low growl and suddenly everything was dark again.

###

The next time he awoke, he was in a cell. The air was stale and disgusting. Fado almost wished that someone would cut off his air again so that he didn't have to smell or inhale it. He was lying on the cold, hard ground, which was causing his body to hurt even more – his armour was missing. The little rest of his right arm was so numb that it felt like it wasn't there as well (miraculously it still managed to _hurt_). Fado blinked quickly to clear his gaze from the black and white dots, but they were completely unimpressed by his efforts. Sighing annoyed, Fado turned his head slightly to look at his stump.

His stomach did two flips when he saw the bloody bandages lazily tied around his elbow. The blood had dried and the brownish cloth was sticking firmly to his flesh; he felt it tweak at even the smallest motion of his arm or the bandages. With a grunt, Fado turned his head away and stared at the ceiling. The same dull grey stones that were beneath and around him greeted him back.

_I hope Eirika is safe,_ he thought and swallowed hard. He had trust in Seth and his abilities but right now they were two against the whole army of Grado. Their chances were slim. _Think positive_, he chided himself. _I believe in them_.

Frowning, he tried to shift gently so that this certain stone underneath him didn't poke him in the back – which took at least half an hour because his body sent gigantic shocks through him and left him gasping for air as soon as he moved even the tiniest bit. When he finally had managed to avoid the stone, he heard the clanking of armour coming closer. He sighed annoyed.

_Just after I managed to become comfortable_. It failed to cheer him up and could barely keep the fear at bay. Not that he would ever show it.

Firelight danced over the wall opposite of his cell and quickly grew bigger. A handful of soldiers entered Fado´s range of vision; one of them unlocked the cell and two of them entered and picked Fado up. He grunted a curse at them when they grabbed him by the shoulders and gruffly pushed him into the corridor.

The world swirled and twisted in front of Fado´s eyes and it was hard to keep his balance. He tried his best not to show his weakness, though it didn't seem like the soldiers were regarding him; they were just transporting him.

After a few turns, Fado knew where they were taking him; they were on the direct way to the castle gate. With a sinking feeling, he realized what would come. And after they had passed the heavy wooden gate, his feeling was verified; he could already discern the shape of the gallows in the orange light of the sinking sun. Fado tried to swallow his fear and the sickness, but no matter what he did, they stayed and pressed against his throat.

When they entered the town and then the market place, where the gallows had been erected, he was slightly surprised by the many people there. His vision had grown a bit hazy again (walking hurt so much), but he noticed the lack of red armour in the crowd; they were Renaitians. Behind them, though, blocking off the streets, was a wall of red.

Fado swallowed again – his tongue now truly stuck to the roof of his mouth. They were forcing his citizens to watch; he wasn't sure if it was more of a punishment for him or for them. The guards roughly pushed him up the steps of the gallows. Fado stumbled but the guards´ tight grip on him kept him on his feet. Quite unwillingly, he forcefully noticed in that moment that he was no longer walking on his own; he could barely lift his legs. Humiliated, Fado´s face twitched into a grimace, which he quickly willed away.

For a second he wondered if he should resist, should show his citizens that he hadn't given up and that they shouldn't give up as well. _But what good would do that?,_ argued a tiny voice inside his head. If he had bad luck, then his citizens would be punished for his insolence. His gaze skimmed the first line of the onlookers. Some of them were confused, others blank, and most of them plain scared. Some of them searched his gaze – _Why?_ The same question that was haunting him was written plainly on their faces. _Why are they killing us? Why are they destroying our lives? What have we done to deserve this?_

Fado lowered his gaze and tried to calm his breathing – his heart seemed to wildly jump around in his chest. Suddenly he felt the rough rope around his neck – one of the guards tightened the noose. Fado took one deep breath and raised his head. Even if his death would be an undignified one, he would still leave with his head held high. He would look confident. One part of his mind whispered that nobody would think the shaking of his knees was because he was scared; no, he looked sufficiently beaten.

The guards released him and stepped back – Fado suddenly felt very lonely. _Please, Eirika, Ephraim, be safe..._ A cold shudder ran through him.

Impatiently, he waited. He (Fado refused to entertain the thought that that person was Vigarde) wouldn't waste this opportunity to dishearten the people of Renais. Fado waited for the trumpets to announce his arrival, waited for the heavy boots to smack against the wood, waited for the sound of armour.

His stomach twisted into a tight knot when he only heard a soldier call for the hangman to get over with this. For a moment his mind blanked with rage; how did they manage to make his death even more undignified? The person walking around in the disguise of his friend didn't even deign to watch him die? Fado couldn't feel his fear anymore – his ears buzzed with anger. Anger and desperation.

He squeezed his eyes shut; he could've stomached the defeat had he got an end worthy of a king and warrior. But this! This twisted the knife in his back and yanked it up and down.

"May you end up in the realm of the Demon King as his shit carrier," he muttered under his breath. With satisfaction, Fado noted that his voice only shook with anger, not fear.

He was startled from his thoughts when he heard wood creaking underneath him, and the rope around his neck tightened. All anger was instantly washed away from his mind and cold fear clutched at his very being. No matter how much Fado chided himself, his legs trembled, his eyes burnt and his stomach rebelled.

He forced his eyes open and looked ahead, skimming the crowd before him. So much hopelessness looked back at him – he wanted to tell them not to give up. Ephraim and Eirika were still alive and would come for them. But his lips seemed to be sewn shut. He had never been this much ashamed of himself. He turned his gaze upwards.

The wood under his feet creaked and sunk a centimetre – they were opening the flap. Fado´s heart drummed hard against his ribcage and all warmth left his body.

Suddenly there were cries. The wood bent upwards beneath Fado and the soldiers behind him shuffled around. Confused and slightly dazed by the overwhelming feelings swirling in his body, Fado turned to the source of the cries. Left to them was one of the four big streets leading to the market place. With his hazy gaze, Fado could only see an undefined dark mass at the end of the street. The soldiers didn't have that problem and called: "An attack! Form a line, hurry!"

The crowd grew agitated, people cried and panicked, storming in the opposite direction of the attack. The Gradian soldiers tried to stop them, but they were run over; they were too few. Fado could only blink at the commotion; his sickness had grown – he had to concentrate so much on staying on his feet that his surroundings faded out.

"Fetch reinforcements!" someone bellowed behind Fado and three men in red armour jumped in front of him. Fado´s breathing grew shallow and he suddenly feared that his heart might stop altogether if it continued to beat as quick as it did in the last few minutes.

"Renaitians!" someone called from far away. "Renaitian soldiers!"

Fado´s relief and happiness was almost drowned by the rest of his mind and feelings. He didn't have any hope for his own, but at least this meant there was hope for Renais, wasn't it? Fado half expected one of the Gradian soldiers to jump forward and hit the switch of the flap so that Fado couldn't get away.

Suddenly one of his guards fell backwards. Fado startled lightly, which almost made him fall to the side like a sack potatoes – the rope around his neck reminded him that he should really _not_ break down right now. An arrow was sticking in the man´s throat. The other guards drew their weapons and shields, but before they could do much, two people stormed up the steps of the gallows. They were only two hazy flashes in Fado´s eyes, but he recognized the colours of their clothes; blue and yellow. Augustinian soldiers.

The Gradian soldiers fell before they could react. "King Fado!" one of the Renaitian soldiers called and hastened to cut the noose. Fado felt like breaking down that second; he didn't manage to care much anymore. His body _hurt so much_ and he just wanted to cry. Suddenly he heard hooves on cobbles and someone called.

"King Fado, here!" The voice sounded familiar, but Fado couldn't place it. The two soldiers pushed him towards the edge of the gallows, where he could see the shadowy form of a mounted soldier. Fado almost stumbled, but the men caught him and helped him to fall onto the horse behind the rider. "Hold onto me, Your Majesty," the rider said and grabbed Fado´s remaining hand, pulling it around him so that he could take a hold of the mane. Fado just fell against the man´s back and tried to close his hand. The rider seemed to have noticed his weakness, since his grip on him tightened. "Let's go!" he called behind him and kicked his horse in gallop. Fado heard more horses behind them and following them.

After that, Fado didn't notice much anymore; he sank into a strange state of blankness. There was nothing but the pain that coursed through his body every time the horses´ hooves met the ground. For a while Fado thought that he truly had died and was on his way to the Demon King´s Realm – the way to the Goddess´ Realm wouldn't be this painful. And he found that he didn't manage to care anymore; he just wanted it to be over.

###

Eventually, Fado felt his mind clearing. In the last hours (or minutes or days?), the pain had almost grown unreal. He had lost all feeling for his body and at times he had thought he already was a ghost. But now, he felt all of himself; the pain poking and pinching even the tiniest muscle, the enormous ache gathering in his temples and his one remaining arm pressing against him. He believed that he felt every little drop of blood sneaking through his veins.

Then he suddenly felt a strange warmth. He knew this feeling very well; someone was working healing magic on him. His forehead twitched into a frown and it hurt. He pressed his lips close tight and willed his eyes to open. This situation was dodgy and he wanted, nay, needed to know where he was and what had happened.

"My King?" someone suddenly asked and the magic intensified. Fado heard someone shift closer. He forced his mouth open to answer but his mouth was so dry that he could only croak. "Your Majesty, you need not worry. You are in safety." It was the familiar voice; Fado relaxed. He felt he could trust this person. "When are you finished?" the voice asked someone else in a hushed volume.

"I'm sorry, sir," a young voice answered. "I can't do much. I have no supplies." There was a short silence.

"I understand. Do what you can." The person seemed to stand up and walk away. Fado wanted to call him back, but was still unable to do so. Angry at himself, he concentrated on his eyes again and forced them open; he had enough strength this time. Blinking quickly, he squinted ahead.

He saw dry earth, almost sand, and footprints. He also saw the edge of the thick cloak he was lying on. Fado raised his gaze; opposite of him there was a small fire. There were two people at the fire; one man, who knelt with the back to Fado, and one woman dressed in heavy armour next to him. A clean sword was at her side. They were talking in low voices. Fado blinked; he truly knew that back.

The man stood up with a canteen in hand. Fado´s eyes widened; he recognized that crinkled face, the burnt skin, bright blue eyes and short, almost black hair – there was much more white woven into it since the last time he had seen him, though. Fado´s mouth twitched into a smile; he still looked 10 years older than he was. The man seemed surprised when he looked up from the canteen to Fado. A reserved and relieved smile quickly replaced the surprise.

"My liege," he said with a respectful nod and knelt next to Fado.

"Karl," Fado croaked. Karl offered him the canteen and lifted Fado´s head; greedily he drank the water spiced with schnapps. Fado licked his lips and sighed relieved when he had finally stilled his thirst.

"How are you feeling, my King?" Karl asked and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Horrible," Fado said truthfully. Karl nodded, expression deadly serious.

"We are on our way to Fort Lochmol. We'll approximately need a day to reach it. Please stay alive until then." Fado snorted.

"I'll try." His voice had sunken to a whisper. He still felt the fear linger in his mind and heart. Fado swallowed and looked up at Karl. "Karl, what happened?"

Karl ran one hand over his chin, frowning thoughtfully; Fado remembered that it was always shaved clean, but now Karl´s hand scratched over irregular stubbles. "Two days ago we heard that Grado had reached Laudane. As soon as I could, I gathered my men and hurried towards you. We met a small unit of Gradian soldiers in Molilene, which cost us a whole day. Two hours away from the capital, we heard that the castle had fallen. I ordered my men to stop and we hid in a small village. I didn't want to endanger my men unnecessarily so I only sent two spies ahead." Karl sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "They watched how some soldiers erected the gallows. They learnt that the Emperor had ordered your execution."

A shiver ran down Fado´s back. He clenched his teeth.

"My men hastened back and told us that we had less than a few hours to come up with a plan to save you. It seemed that Grado didn't want to waste any time on getting rid of you, my King." Karl hesitated. "Our plan was hasty and reckless." He straightened, a smile tugging at his mouth. "My King has been quite an influence."

Fado couldn't keep himself from barking something akin to laughter, even though his arm retaliated with bone-shattering pain. A wave of happiness flooded his heart and for a moment Fado felt good. "By the Goddess, have I missed you and your dryness." Fado´s grin was a tad pained, but honest. Karl lowered his head respectfully, maybe to hide his amused smile.

"Sir, I'm finished." Karl turned to the young boy next to them. Fado had completely forgot about the person who had been healing him. The healer looked very young with his chubby cheeks and his shortness. The twelve-year-old who was always bringing Fado his letters was taller than this boy.

"Good. You may rest now." The boy´s shoulders slumped a bit and relief washed over his face. He bowed to Fado and wobbled over to the fire. The woman smirked at him, but didn't comment. The boy sat down gingerly and stretched his legs.

"Where is the rest of your men?" Fado asked in a low voice. Karl shook his head slowly; his expression darkened.

"We knew that we were vastly outnumbered so I ordered them to flee in small groups in all directions. I hoped that would confuse and slow down the Gradian army. All survivors will meet up at Levee Forest." Fado tensed and the happiness that had lifted his mood shrank back.

"How many were you?"

"150 men and women. Most of them soldiers. A few civilians had joined us when they heard of the attack. They wanted to help." Karl sighed. "I fear they were the first to fall." Fado pressed his lips to a thin line.

"They were very brave people." Karl nodded. Silence fell over them for a few moments.

"Do they teach you nothing in those convents?" they heard the woman say, her voice laced with snickers.

"They are," the healer protested. "I can read, write, sew, cook, heal-"

"But not ride a horse." The woman laughed loudly now.

"Ma'am Linnéa, I- I–" Fado and Karl both clearly heard the agitation in his voice. Linnéa laughed again.

"I'm just teasing you, Iustus! Don' be so uptight!" A small smile found its way onto Fado´s face; he looked over to them. Iustus had a bright red face, which made him look like a tomato, while Linnéa grinned broadly and leaned back, supporting herself on her hands. Her short green hair stuck to her sweaty forehead and neck. A long, dark scar ran through her lower lip down to her chin; it seemed to be an old wound.

"Your Majesty, are you hungry?" Karl asked. Fado pondered it for a moment and then shook his head.

"I don't believe I could hold it down." Karl nodded thoughtfully.

"Very well. But I believe you need more water." He walked over to the two at the fire and exchanged a few words with Linnéa; eventually she rose to her feet, picked up her sword and the canteen and disappeared between the trees.

Fado sighed and slackened; he felt so incredible tired. The pain in his arm had dulled slightly and while the sickness had grown weaker, he still felt horrible. He shifted a bit so that his left arm was no longer wedged underneath him and closed his eyes. He felt safe enough to immediately fall asleep.

###

Iustus shook Fado awake the next morning; still tired, Fado blinked lazily and looked up at the sky. It was still rather dark, but there were no longer stars visible. Fado shuddered when a gentle breeze tickled his skin. It was cold; Fado guessed they already were close to the mountains. The air in the regions of the Lower Borgo Mountain Range was infamous for the coldness it carried into the land all year.

Only with difficulties, Fado could sit up. His mind whirled around and made so many pirouettes that Fado started to think that he was truly turning on his axis.

"Breakfast, Your Majesty?" Karl asked from the cold fireplace. Fado grimaced.

"The king is pretty white in the face," Linnéa remarked.

"We should set out then," Karl said, his voice betraying his annoyance at the lack of manners. As Karl and Linnéa went to fetch the two horses, Fado turned to Iustus.

"Is my arm still there?" The boy blinked, his expression openly confused and surprised. "I don't feel it," Fado added.

"Yes," Iustus answered slowly, crunched up his forehead and looked around for the others. Fado frowned.

"How old are you?" Iustus´ head whipped around to him, the insecurity and whiff of fear replaced by an embarrassed blush.

"I'm 15."

_He's puny_, Fado thought and crinkled his nose at the pain that jabbed against his temples. _Ephraim and Eirika were taller than him at that age._ Iustus meanwhile shifted away, now with an angry lines on his forehead.

"You're doing good for your age," Fado remarked and tried to smile away the lump in his throat. Iustus threw a doubtful look at him – his forehead relaxed, though. "I'm not in as much pain as yesterday." Now Iustus relaxed completely and even smiled.

"Thank you, sir." Before Fado could continue the conversation, they heard the others coming back. Karl walked straight over to Fado.

"Sire, can you stand up?" Fado bit the inside of his cheek – hard.

"No." He extended his good arm to Karl and let the older man pull him up. After a little hassle Fado finally sat in the saddle and clutched at the horse´s mane. Just this little thing had already exhausted him so much that he wanted to lie down and sleep again. He bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he drew blood. Karl mounted behind him and took up the reins.

_The last time that I had to ride with someone was when I was 11,_ Fado thought bitterly.

"What's our plan?" Linnéa asked as she rode up with Iustus mounted behind her; the boy clutched at her sword belt. Karl turned his horse around and nudged it into motion.

"We'll ride southwards to the mountains. The entrance to Fort Lochmol is hidden somewhere between the towns of Atlor and Carana. We'll stay inside the forest as long as we can. We mustn't underestimate Grado´s wyvern scouts."

If they were showing consideration for Fado or if they truly couldn't move quickly in the forest, Fado didn't know, but their pace was very slow. At their quickest, the horses were not just ambling. It frustrated him, but also calmed him. Yesterday he had had the luck that he had been unconscious during the flight and therewith hadn't been affected too negatively. But now he was wide awake (even though his body tried to suggest otherwise). The shaking of the horse alone was making him sick; he didn't truly want to know what would happen if they were cantering or galloping.

The sun soon rose above the firs and shone through the dark needles. When Fado couldn't find even one broad-leaved tree between the tall firs, he knew that they already were surprisingly close to the mountains. Maybe they could've already seen the snow-topped tops of the mountains if the trees weren't in the way. Fado shifted; the wind had slowly grown stronger over the last few hours and carried more and more frost with it. It was still late summer, but in the strange area the mountains were standing in the weather was a bit different than in the rest of Renais; the hot winds from Jehanna that warmed south-western and central Renais couldn't withstand the winds travelling over the mountains from Grado.

"Are you cold, Your Majesty?" Karl asked from behind.

"No," Fado pressed through tense lips. He already felt weak enough; he didn't need to add this little unpleasantness onto the heap. Nevertheless, Karl pulled the cloak he had imposed on Fado earlier tighter around him. Fado winced when the cloak pressed against his stump; Karl didn't notice.

They spent the next two or three hours in silence; which was their luck, Fado guessed, since only because of their silence, they heard the low chattering to their left. Karl immediately yanked up his arm and beckoned them to stop. All three of them perked their ears – Fado was only half-conscious by now – and listened intently.

"Iustus, check ahead," Karl whispered and steered his horse around, back into a denser area of the forest. Iustus nodded and slid from Linnéa´s horse – his face had grown a tad ashen when Karl had called his name, but he donned a confident expression (probably forcefully) when he raced from one tree to the next, always staying in hiding.

After a few minutes had passed, Linnéa grew impatient and shifted on her saddle. "Sir, we shouldn't have sent Iustus. He's just a 'lil boy." Karl ignored her, peering in the direction the boy had disappeared in. Linnéa sighed when she didn't get an answer and fingered the hilt of her sword. Fado meanwhile had finally decided that leaning back against Karl was alright and the embarrassment he would feel for it would not be as bad as the pain that staying upright would cause him.

Then suddenly they heard footsteps hastening over the dry ground; Karl tensed and pulled back his reins, alerting his horse. Linnéa grabbed the handle of her sword tightly. They relaxed, Karl only slightly, when Iustus wriggled through two firs.

"There were two woodcutters." Iustus took a deep breath; his cheeks were still tinted pink from the excitement. "I watched them walking westwards, I believe. There's a path in the forest. I checked if more people were coming, but I couldn't find anything."

Karl nodded at him; Fado managed a smile. "Let's hurry. We shouldn't stay close to ways the Grads could take." Iustus nodded and hastened to mount behind Linnéa.

Karl sent Linnéa and Iustus ahead, just in case that someone had turned up while the boy was reporting his findings. To their luck, the forest was still deserted and they crossed the path without problems.

When the sun stood high over their heads, Fado felt his consciousness slipping. Never before had he noticed it this strongly. It scared him, he had to admit. His body was growing numb and one second he felt like he was burning and in the next second it was like he was swimming in an ice lake. He grew inwardly tense. And thirsty.

"I think forest's over," Linnéa remarked just as Fado tried to articulate his need for water. Karl leaned forward to see better over Fado´s shoulder.

"You are correct." Karl slowed his horse. "Iustus,–"

"I'll spy ahead," Iustus interrupted him, already on his way down from horseback. Fado heard Karl huff lowly in annoyance at being interrupted. His mouth twitched into a smile and he rolled his head back.

"Karl, I need water," he croaked.

"Of course, Your Majesty." While Karl fumbled with the canteen and helped Fado drink, Iustus slunk back.

"I couldn't see any soldiers, sir. I checked the sky but there was not even one bird. And towards the right," he extended his left arm and waved in the rough direction, "is another forest. It doesn't look dense, but it's better than on the plain." He raised his voice towards the end in question and looked at Karl.

"Well done." The boy´s face lit up and he jumped on Linnéa´s horse far more energetically than earlier. Karl leaned forward and spoke lowly in Fado´s ear: "Sire, we'll have to hurry for a moment." Fado grmph-ed in return. His mind had grown hazy again. Karl seemed to hesitate before he kicked his horse into motion.

Despite the warning Fado winced and whimpered when the first shock wave ran through his body. Every time the horse´s hooves hit the ground, something punched Fado´s stomach. He could barely keep himself from leaning over the side and relieving his stomach.

Thankfully, they quickly crossed the clearing and entered the next forest, slowing down as soon as they were no longer visible from the plain.

"Your Majesty, shall we rest for a while?" Karl asked. Fado knew that he was probably grimacing and looking horrible – he hated that he had barely any self-control right now. He shook his head. "Very well." Karl seemed unwilling, but still didn't stop.

Fado soon lost his feeling for time; he dozed off again and again. The light had grown low and cold the next time Fado reclaimed enough consciousness to clear his mind and looked around tiredly. His skin seemed to be on fire.

"Karl?" he croaked.

"Yes, My King?"

"Where are we?" His words were so slurred that he barely understood himself.

"We are currently searching for the mountain path." Fado squinted ahead; a few metres in front of him, the mountains rose high against the sky. Dark grey stone dominated the landscape and the earth beneath them was of a reddish brown. Barely any plants were growing here – only flowerless weeds and sturdy, small conifers managed to settle down on the bare stone. When Fado sighed, his breath turned into thin, white fog.

"Can't the king help us find the path?" Linnéa called from the left.

"Lady Linnéa, please watch your manners," Karl returned in a curt voice.

"... My apologies." Fado found that her voice sounded a bit annoyed and he guessed she would also roll her eyes; a tired smirk crept onto his face. "Could His Majesty assist us in finding the path?"

"I do not think so." Karl was still tense. "Keep your eyes open and your mind sharp."

They spend the next hour searching, riding along the foot of the mountain range; Iustus and Linnéa had both dismounted to be able to check the stone more closely. After they had passed a mountain slope that reached far into the forest, they suddenly heard talking. Karl immediately drew his sword, Linnéa followed his example and Iustus startled and hastened to hide behind Linnéa´s horse. The newcomers were too close to hide from.

Suddenly the head of a brown horse looked around a wall of trees (a very unfortunate coincidence, Fado thought) and snorted. "Who goes there?" Karl called confidently. They heard the clanking of weapons; Linnéa shifted into an attack stance.

Then the rider of the brown horse entered their range of vision. Karl immediately relaxed. "Sir Lajos." Recognition hushed over the newcomer´s face and he lowered his axe.

"Lord Augustin, it's you." Sir Lajos sighed in relief and waved behind him. Another soldier joined him; a young woman armed with a longbow. "You are alive." Then his gaze fell to Fado. "Your Majesty!" He immediately saluted. "The king is alive." Fado blinked slowly.

"At the moment, yes." Fado had to agree with Karl.

"We just wanted to start our search," Sir Lajos said; if he was surprised by Karl´s frankness, he didn't show it. He turned to Linnéa and Iustus then and nodded. "I am Lajos of Morin and this is Lady Raphaela."

"I'm Néa," Linnéa answered and only slowly lowered her sword. She was visibly tense.

"I'm Iustus from Durant." Both Lajos and Raphaela nodded to them; he smiled, but she seemed sour. She was also clutching her side. Fado had to squint hard until he could identify the rags around her middle as bandages.

"Let's continue our search," Karl announced. "We have to find the path before nightfall." Lajos dismounted then and joined Linnéa and Iustus, though he still stayed close to Lady Raphaela and periodically threw concerned looks back at her.

Temperature fell quickly and the first star, The Goddess´ Eye, peeked over the tops of the firs. They were still searching for the entrance of the path and slowly their hands grew stiff with coldness. None of them had the appropriate clothing for this premature winter. The tiny part of Fado´s mind that was still clear noticed how Karl grew tenser and tenser and urged his subordinates to search faster and better. Linnéa was the only one, who sighed and grumbled.

Fado thought he had fallen asleep because Iustus´ call startled him 'awake' in the same way as his twins did back when they had been small and sometimes jumped around on his bed when he slept too long on a lazy day. The only difference was that he didn't hear cheeky giggling. "Sir, this looks strange."

Karl urged his horse over to where Iustus was crouching in front of a ledge. He was pointing at a small hole in the dark stone; it was barely high and wide enough to permit a crouching adult to slip through. "No, this is not the entrance. But we are close." He turned to the others. "The entrance must be here. Control every centimetre of the stone." Lajos nodded obediently; Linnéa was already gone and let her hand glide over the stone.

They moved slowly and truly checked every little pebble and stray blade of grass. Karl tightened his grip around Fado and leaned down to him. He didn't talk; after throwing a long look at Fado´s nearly grey face, he turned away. The wound on his left cheek had turned a brownish red and the skin around it was flushed. Fado seemed to sleep again, or was shortly before falling asleep. Karl threw a quick glance at their other wounded party member; Lady Raphaela kept herself upright admirably. Her hand was still pressed to her side, but her stance betrayed none of her pain. Her eyes were alert and scanning the forest behind them.

"I think I found it!" called Linnéa suddenly. All heads jerked around to her; she was half hidden by another fold in the stone. She poked her head out. "Here's something that could be a path. And a pair of horses could pass here." Karl quickly rode up to her and peeked into the fold. On first glance it seemed to be a natural cave with sandy ground. But when he lowered his head and turned his gaze slightly upwards, he saw a flash of dark blue sky far in the back.

"This is it." Iustus sighed relieved while Lajos only slumped his shoulders. Linnéa grinned broadly.

"About time."

"Sir Lajos, please lead the way," Karl said and threw a strict glance towards the young man. He snapped back into tenseness, saluted and quickly mounted his horse. He entered the pathway carefully – it was broad enough to let a horse walk through comfortably, but the height was not fitting. All of them had to lean down onto the neck of their mounts. When they left the stone gate, Karl looked grimmer than before. "Hurry now." He pulled Fado close to him; his head lolled back lifelessly.

"Sir, shall I-" Iustus started and made a grab for his stave, but Karl interrupted him with a shake of the head.

"No." He kicked his horse in the side and, snorting loudly, the horse happily cantered up the path.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally Chapter 2. It's a rather slow chapter, but it was necessary. I didn't want to have such a hard break and "skip" from arriving to meeting up with Ephraim. Besides, time passes slowly for Fado and that is kinda mirrored in the "inaction" of this chapter. And it has some characterisation that I like so all is well. The next chapter, by the way, will be from Ephraim's perspective. I've debated with myself about that because originally I wanted to restrict the perspective to Fado, but I soon noticed that especially in the beginning I had to rely more on other characters. But after the third chapter I want to try to keep the perspective of Fado.

Chapter 2

_He couldn't count how often he had thought he was dead. He had thought he was prepared for the end, but during the long hours of feverish pain, he noticed that he was scared of dying._

Fado hadn't been truly awake for a long time now. He knew that time was passing – he heard voices around him, felt himself being moved and noticed the chill that the night brought – but couldn't interact with his surroundings. His eyes seemed to be sewn shut, just as his mouth was. He could do nothing on his own.

Fado was almost used to it by now. It didn't make him panic as badly anymore. He had never liked to be entrapped, but this strange inability to move was not much different from being grounded in his father's private library – dark, stuffy and devoid of distraction from self-reflection.

The only time Fado hated his confinement and when the fear appeared again were the times of heat. Sometimes an unbearable heat would flare up inside him. His blood would turn into lava and his lungs went on strike. No matter how much he gasped for air, it was never enough.

He touched death every time, but for some reason he was always pushed back. There was a force between him and death – a gentle, but strong force, accompanied by a strange whispering sound.

Fado didn't want to return to his body, though; it burnt him and the pain was almost unbearable. He didn't want to be in pain anymore. But the force was pressing against him, pressing against his chest, and then the whispering grew into a hiss.

Suddenly the heat flared up and Fado screamed. Cold fire cut into him. He flailed – or at least tried to, but the force kept him down. Fado caught, gasped, snapped for air. The whispering accelerated and it was a scream. No, that was _him_. He was screaming. Suddenly the force pressed into his side. Fado tried to hit it, but there was no arm to hit it with.

The cold heat seared his side. Fado cried – he felt the tears against his burning skin – and then there was suddenly nothing anymore. Only darkness.

###

The clearness of his own mind surprised Fado. The darkness had left gently and the burning heat was nothing but a lingering memory.

He inhaled deeply. The air was pleasantly warm – a whiff of wood and ash told him that somewhere was a fire burning. It was not stuffy, though; Fado felt cold air coming from his right side. It was just a gentle breeze so he guessed that it was just a leaky window.

Fado hesitated; he was curious. He wanted to see where he was, but he also was scared. _Of what am I supposed to be scared?_ he thought angrily. Was he already that accustomed to nothingness? His eyelids were heavy, but they obeyed. Blinking lazily, Fado saw for the first time in a long while more than the inside of his mind.

He stared at the ceiling of a low room; the stones were sleek. It didn't seem that this room was used often. There were spider webs in the corners and the foot end of the bed he was lying on was in a rather bad state; the wood was splintered and wet at some places. Fado tried to turn, but his body was almost completely numb.

"Hng." Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but somehow Fado managed to wriggle into a half-sitting position. Gasping, he rested his head against the stones and squinted ahead. A small fireplace was opposite of him. Otherwise the room was empty. "Hello?" Fado croaked. He grimaced; his tongue felt as if he had been licking clean a cat for an hour. "Hello?" he called again.

Since nobody came, Fado looked around for something to drink. When he looked to his right, something caught his gaze; he paused. His gaze fell to where his arm had been. The last time he had been awake, there was at least a stump left. Now, however, there was nothing. The sleeve of his shirt fell down straight directly at his shoulder. Fado's breathing grew heavy; he leaned over to see better.

There was nothing. His body just stopped there. Fado raised his left hand to feel, just in case he was hallucinating. His hand was shaking.

The touch sent needles through his body. The skin under his empty sleeve was hot and raw. Fado flinched but kept pressing his hand onto his shoulder. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no." Involuntarily, his fingers clenched – a whimper escaped him.

The shaking of his hand grew and infected the rest of his body. Fado blinked quickly, his gaze blurring. He shook his head. "No, no, no." He felt around, searching desperately – _where was his arm!_

"Your Majesty?" The sudden voice barely penetrated Fado's mind. Only slowly he looked up. He recognized Karl; there was another person with him, but Fado paid them no mind.

"Karl? My arm." Fado looked up at him; his voice was weak.

"Please calm down, Your Majesty. Everything is alright." Fado shook his head and clutched at his shoulder. Another wave of pain flooded through him. "Your Majesty, please lie down. You are still feverish. Lady Milena, the medicine." Fado was still shaking his head when the person next to Karl pressed a cup against his lips. Gruffly, Fado yanked his head away from the stinking liquid.

"No! My arm, Karl. Where is it?"

"Your Majesty, the fever is confusing you. Please drink the medicine."

"I'm not confused. I want to know where my sword arm is!" His shaking grew with the volume of his voice. "I need my sword arm!" Before he could rant more, the other person pushed the cup half into his mouth. Taken by surprise, Fado gulped the thick liquid down. "Karl!" he roared in anger before he was silenced by the next gulp.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but this is for your sake." Fado tried to push the cup back again, but it disappeared before he could raise his still existing hand. His gaze grew dizzy and the urge to punch Karl filled his head, but sleep overpowered him and darkness conquered him.

The next time he awoke, his mouth felt even worse. His lips were glued to each other and it actually hurt when he finally managed to open them.

"My lord?" a woman said and leaned over to him. Blinking quickly because the daylight was blinding him, Fado squinted upwards. An older woman with bleached-out orange hair smiled down at him. The corners of her eyes were covered with wrinkles. "How are you feeling?"

"Water." Fado was surprised that she seemingly understood his mumbling for she stood up and fetched a cup from the windowsill. The water was freezing cold, but Fado still downed it in one go.

"Let me see…" The woman pushed Fado's sweaty hair out of his eyes and felt his forehead and cheeks. "Your fever has gone down." Her smile grew a bit. "Can you listen?" Fado crunched up his forehead in confusion, but nodded. "I'm Milena. My husband and I are the guards of Lochmol. We've been living here for almost forty years. Our daughter still lives with us while our son has left several years ago. Lord Augustin brought you here almost two weeks ago." More confusion entered Fado's face. "We did our best to nurse you back to health, but your right arm was causing a strong fever. It was already rotting."

"Rotting?" Fado eyes widened.

"Yes, my lord," Milena said with a sweet smile, "it was rotting. We decided that you only had a chance to live if we amputate the arm." Fado squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. "I believe the herbs we used to sedate you when you woke up during the procedure caused your fit yesterday."

Fado swallowed hard. The pain hadn't been a dream or hallucination. "I see." Maybe Milena had heard the strain in his words because she petted his thigh for a second and then walked to the door and called for someone. Fado was still dazed by the things he just heard and he spent the short time until someone new entered the room staring at his right shoulder.

"Your Majesty," Karl exclaimed when he entered, and saluted. Fado's expression seemed to be distressing because Karl immediately became concerned. "Are you feeling alright?" Karl asked while hastening over and sitting down on the chair Milena had occupied earlier. Fado nodded numbly.

"Yes, I think so." Karl sat, back ramrod straight, and watched Fado very closely. Fado meanwhile tried to gather his thoughts; it was true that his mind was not as messy as yesterday, but he was still so slow. Finally he could formulate the thought that had danced in front of his nose for the longest time.

"How am I supposed to wield a sword now?" Fado did mean the question serious so he was taken aback by the uncharacteristically broad smile on Karl's face.

"I believe you are over the worst."

###

Fado was staring out of the window. In the last hour, the wind had picked up again and pushed the snow from the stone into the air and eventually against Fado's window. Apart from looking around the room and out of the window there wasn't much he could do. He wasn't allowed to walk around (he had tried, of course, with not so pleasant consequences for him), there was barely any entertainment in form of books (despite normally not being an avid reader, he had finished the small stock of books the fort had in not much more than a week) and he rarely got visitors. He didn't know if Karl kept the others from meeting him or if they were too shy to talk to him.

_Talking to the king of your home country probably sounds easier than it is_, Fado thought with a sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, massaging them with his fingers. The day was bright and would stay that way for a long time – the sun had risen just a few hours ago and Fado already wished it would sink already.

"This is worse than death," he grumbled under his breath and shifted in his bed. His back and behind were hurting from lying all the time. Never, in his whole life, had he been lying around so long that his back grew sore. Fado was so embarrassed by it that he had told nobody about it. He'd rather suffer than admit _this_. Fado sneered at the thought of ever voicing it.

His gaze returned to the window and the dancing snow. He quickly fell into a strange trance – those snowflakes were just hypnotising. It was a thoughtless trance, which was a rare treat; normally the memory of his duel with Vigarde would repeat itself over and over in his mind. Somewhere in there had to be the answers to all his questions; _why_ and could he have done anything to prevent it?

He was so stuck in his mind that the knock on the door startled him more than was necessary. "Yes?" he called confused and pushed himself upright, which he habitually still tried to do with both arms. Cold anger worsened his mood even more.

"Good morning, sir," Linnéa said as she entered with a smile.

"Good day," he answered through gritted teeth. Linnéa faltered for a second before striding over confidently. Fado smacked the crankiness out of his mind and smiled apologetic. "I remember you, but I cannot recall your name."

"I'm Néa."

"Néa?" He frowned in confusion. "Wasn't it something with 'L'?"

"Why, yes, it is." Linnéa shrugged with an askew smile. "But at home everybody called me Néa and I like it better. I told Karl to call me Néa but he insists on Linnéa." She sighed good-natured. "And Iustus and Lajos follow his example, even though I told them." Fado chuckled.

"Well, maybe they'll follow my example if I call you Néa." She beamed at him.

"I'd be much grateful." Fado found that his mood considerably brightened. Linnéa looked around the room. "So, I was sent to check your fire, but it looks good. But I'll add another coal, just to be safe." She walked over and knelt in front of the fire place; from his position on the bed Fado could only see the back of her head. "Oh, and I was supposed to ask if you want to eat."

"Solid food?" Fado saw Linnéa shake with laughter.

"I believe so."

"Good," Fado sighed with relief. "The 'soup' from the last few days was horrible."

Linnéa stood up and patted her dirty hands against her pants. "Don't worry, sir, we got the same food. We suffered with you." Fado couldn't help but grin. He liked this woman.

"Will you sit with me after you told them?" Fado asked and nodded to the chair next to his bed. "It's very tiring to be alone all day." Linnéa nodded and smiled warmly.

Almost happy, Fado waited for her to return. When she did come, she first walked back to the fire place and picked something up. It was a small handkerchief, which she pressed against the scar on her lip as she sat down. Fado's forehead creased with confusion, but he didn't get the chance to ask; Linnéa had already noticed.

"My scar pinches when it's so cold and dry." She carefully dabbed the cloth first against her chin, then against her lower lip. "It hurts when I talk."

Fado nodded slowly. "May I ask where you acquired it?" He threw her a careful glance – he knew how embarrassing it could be to talk about the origin of certain scars. She dropped her gaze and behind the cloth Fado could spy a reserved smile – it was embarrassing.

"Nothing dramatic or exciting, I fear." She threw him an amused look. "There's a small gorge near Durant, where I come from. And I mean really small. A tall adult could stand in it and still be able to peek over the edge. But for children it's a huge canyon." Linnéa chuckled. "We were playing there often and one time, after a rain day, I believe, my friends and I were careless. I slipped on the stone and fell down head first. The stones were rough at the top – the creek was shallow and only smoothed the stones at the ground – and my face, well…" She looked away for a second; Fado grimaced in sympathy. "I have a second scar, even," Linnéa said and turned her head, smoothing up her short hair. "At the back of my head."

Fado leaned forward. There was indeed a long, thin scar from her ear down to her neck. It was completely covered when Linnéa let go of her hair. "Well, now we have something in common, haven't we," Linnéa continued, smiling. Her comment confused Fado for a moment and he seemed to show it since Linnéa pointed to his left cheek. Startled, his hand shot upwards and traced the still pinkish scar from his cheek to his ear.

"Yes." He forced a smile on his face. "I always forget it. I supposed I should be grateful that it doesn't particularly hurt." His voice trailed off at the end and forced himself not to look at his arm. It still shocked him every time that there was nothing. That a part of him was missing even though it felt like it was still there. He still tried to scratch his (by now covered with beard) chin with his right, to grab for his fork or spoon with his right and to wipe the sleep from his eyes with his right.

Linnéa concentrated on dabbing her lower lip when Fado fell silent and frowned at his lap. She threw concerned looks at him the whole time, but didn't dare to disturb him. Eventually she put away the cloth, folded her hands in her lap and turned to the king. He slowly looked up; his frown had turned into a scowl.

"You have two children, haven't you?" The question seemed to startle Fado so much that he forgot to scowl.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"I have just one daughter," Linnéa said with sad smile. "She's in Carcino by now, I hope. I've sent her to her aunt, my husband's sister. Her husband is a smithy."

"What's her name?" Fado asked quietly. While Linnéa's question had brought up a topic he didn't really want to think about, it was still better than silence.

"Melanie." Linnéa's gaze fell to her lap. "She's a really bright child. Very smart. She's good with numbers. Maybe she could even find work in Carcino as an assistant of a merchant."

Fado nodded slowly. "My daughter, Eirika, is also good at counting. Well, not just good with numbers but… she's very talented." A memory of his little girl bouncing next to him and counting every paper page he put down as he sorted his documents into stacks sprung to mind – yearning for his family pressed against his throat for a moment. He smiled at Linnéa.

"There's no other answer for a parent, is there?" Linnéa asked, laughing.

"I always try to be as honest as possible. I would never ascribe skills to them that they don't have." Suddenly he smirked. "They're already amazing enough without any boasting." Linnéa laughed heartily. "Do you have any more family?" Linnéa's smile weakened and thinned out. Fado's face fell – only now he noticed that that was a very insensitive question. "I'm–"

"My husband is dead, I think," she said quietly. "We both joined Karl, you know." Fado's mouth snapped shut and he listened intently. "My husband's sister was visiting us when the news came. We panicked and sent her and Melanie away. We wanted her to be safe." Fado saw tears gathering in Linnéa's eyes; he averted his gaze.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. You're both very brave. Thank you for fighting for Renais."

Linnéa shook her head. "We weren't brave and we didn't fight for Renais. We just wanted to keep Grado from finding her. We just wanted to hold them up for a while."

"It doesn't matter why you took up your weapons." Linnéa tilted her head so she could meet his gaze. "You fought to protect someone you care about and for that you need courage." Her lower lip trembled and she ripped her gaze away; her eyes were swimming with tears by now. Fado smiled sympathetically at her and would've taken her hand if he could've reached her with his left hand. "Your daughter is surely very proud of you."

Linnéa hiccuped, though it could also have been a laugh, and shook her head. "Oh no, she would say we were stupid. War is for soldiers, not for a butcher and his wife."

"Then your courage is even greater." A sob escaped Linnéa. "Soldiers know the battlefield, you did not. I find your actions highly admirable." Linnéa was silently crying now and shook her head.

"You only want to make me feel better," she argued as she wiped her eyes.

"I'm perfectly serious." Linnéa shook her head again, laughing and sobbing simultaneously.

"Thank you," she eventually whispered and smiled at him. "I cannot tell you how much hope I had lost since my husband's death – I know he is dead, even though I didn't see it happen. We were separated. I tried to continue. To protect Melanie, but it was… so hard. Thank you for letting me talk." Fado returned her smile; a part of him wanted to talk about his worries as well, but there was a mental wall that that part couldn't jump over. "May I hug you?" she suddenly asked. A grin was her answer. Her eyes were still wet as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Fado in a strong embrace. It was awkward to return it with just one arm – it seemed so incomplete – but was also soothing. It was not just a hug to calm her, no – in that moment Fado noticed how much he had needed body contact as well. Suddenly, he didn't feel as lonely anymore. Involuntarily, he clutched at Linnéa and now his eyes were watering as well.

In that moment he noticed how much he was missing his twins and how much he wanted to half-strangle them with a big hug.

"Thank you, sir," Linnéa said when she pulled back. Fado almost stopped her – he didn't have enough yet – but he controlled himself and just offered a thin smile. Linnéa took a long look at him, then stroked his shoulders – _shoulder and nothingness_ – and stood up. "I'm sure your children are safe." His mouth twitched and he nodded. He avoided her gaze for he noticed that his control was waning – she stood there for a moment awkwardly.

They were saved by a knock on the door. "I liked our little conversation," Linnéa said, trying to look upbeat. Fado nodded without looking up. "Next time we'll talk about something happier, though." Fado couldn't help but chuckle. He nodded.

"Gladly."

###

Several weeks passed in which Fado still had to fight against his fever, which randomly flared up, and boredom – nothing else really happened. No Augustinian troops had arrived in the meantime. They had held a short mourning ceremony for the dead soldiers on the first day of the second month since their arrival.

Since the first week, Karl had sent Lajos, Raphaela, Linnéa and Iustus – always in a pair of two – off down the path towards Grado almost every day; Fort Lochmol had two entryways, the eastern one from Renais and one from the west. The path leading to Grado was exceptionally small and ended in wilderness in the middle of nowhere. Since the building of the Fort 400 years ago, nobody from Grado had ever got lost in this region and found the entrance – or at least no-one had been stupid enough to climb up the path. Halfway down this path was a small wooden gate from where one had an excellent view over the wilderness and could detect any movements early. Karl ordered them to watch any activity on the plains, lest Grado had somehow found out about this hideout and would come to see if anybody was here.

"Watch out!" Lajos called back as he slipped on a loose stone. Linnéa rolled her eyes and stepped over the debris. "Good that you're alright," he added sheepishly and focused on the path ahead.

Linnéa ignored him. After another handful of sharp turns the wooden gate finally appeared in front of them. "Looks worse than ever," Linnéa mumbled.

"Then let me go first and see if it is safe, Lady Linnéa." Lajos quickly walked over to the not particularly trustworthy looking ladder. Linnéa crossed her arms and glared at his back. Gingerly, Lajos pulled himself onto the small platform atop of the gate.

"It seems safe enough for me," he called down. He blinked confused at the expression on Linnéa's face, but didn't comment on it.

"Well, do you see anything?" Lajos quickly scanned the horizon.

"No." He squinted hard. Linnéa shifted her weight to one foot and waited amused. Suddenly Lajos seemed to remember something and felt around his pockets. "Lady Linnéa, would you be so kind and give me the looking-glass?" Chuckling lowly, Linnéa pulled the weathered telescope from her pocket and threw it up. Lajos caught it easily and scanned the horizon again. He faltered when he looked to the northwest.

"What is it?" Linnéa called up to him, placing her fists on her hip.

"I… can see something." He licked his lips nervously. "But I cannot identify them. It seems like an army."

"An army?"

"Yes, it's coming from up north."

"It could be Frelia, couldn't it?"

"… Yes. But if Grado has reached Frelia and if they won–" He cut himself off. Linnéa crossed her arms again, shivering as a gust of cold air raced down through the stone-enclosed path.

"We'll wait and if it's truly Grado, I'll alert Karl." Lajos nodded and raised the telescope to his eye. Linnéa huddled into a small fold in the stone to hide from the wind and together they waited.

Several hours passed and Linnéa was walking around by now, swinging her arms, to drive away the cold from her body. Lajos shivered strongly, but still kept stubbornly staring at the shadows at the horizon.

"L-lady Linné-éa," he said through chattering teeth. "I see a flag."

"Really?" she called up.

"I-It's the Renaitian flag."

"What?" Linnéa stopped dead in her tracks and stared up at him. Lajos nodded.

"I know. B-but it's clearly the flag of Renais." He looked down to her; his lips were bluish and his face white.

"Alright, come down here, boy, and I go up and tell Karl."

"No, I have to watch them."

Linnéa put on a parental look of disapproval. "You'll come down now. I don't want to find a frozen body when I come back."

Lajos hesitated. "Very well, ma'am." He almost fell from the ladder due to his stiff legs and arms. Linnéa pulled his cloak around him tightly when he finally stood in front of her.

"I'll be back in a few hours." She waited for him to give her a sign of understanding and then hastened through the stone up to the fort.

###

"What?" Karl stared at her with wide eyes.

"Lajos was absolutely sure." Karl wrinkled his forehead and shook his head. Turning away, he walked over to the dirty window overlooking the tiny courtyard in front of the fort; actually, it could barely call itself a courtyard. It was less than three horse-lengths broad and one horse-length deep.

"This is impossible," Karl mumbled and scratched his jaw, starting to pace in front of the window. Linnéa stood by the door, completely forgot by him. "Only Prince Ephraim or Princess Eirika could display the Renaitian flag. Frelia would gain nothing by displaying it. But Princess Eirika would never lead an army. King Fado ordered her to stay safe. She's not as bad as the rest of her family." Karl came to an abrupt stop and scowled at himself. "Regardless…" he said very pointedly, " Prince Ephraim went missing, but he could still be alive."

Contemplating, he rubbed his upper lip and stared out of the window; snow had started to gently float downwards after the earlier storm had finally died down. He remained deadly silent for a long time. Linnéa shifted, crossed her arms to warm her hands in her armpits and waited impatiently.

"Sir?"

Karl didn't react at first. Then he suddenly turned on his heels and strode towards the door. "Lady Linnéa, fetch a meal for yourself and Lajos, and keep taps on the moving army."

"Alright."

Since the fort was tiny, it took Karl only a few steps to arrive at Fado's room. He knocked loudly, waited for a second and then entered. "Your Majesty."

Fado was sitting upright in his bed, a thick book on his lap, and reading intently. He waved to Karl without looking up; the gesture was bordering on being dismissive. "My King, we have to discuss the news I have just received." Fado looked a tad miffed at the intrusion, but set the book aside.

"Alright, what is it?"

"Your Majesty, Lady Linnéa has just reported that an army journeys from Frelia towards Grado. Sir Lajos claims to have seen the Renaitian flag at the head." Fado looked sceptical. "Sir Lajos is a trustworthy scout."

Relief wanted to tug at Fado's frozen expression of doubt, but he smacked it backwards. For once he didn't want to hope too much. "Then Ephraim is alive?" His voice was tight, he noticed.

"I believe so, but we have no proof at the moment. I plan to take Sir Lajos with me and inspect the army."

"You and Sir Lajos?" Fado asked with raised eyebrows. "Aren't you too old for scout missions?"

"If you aren't too old to challenge the Gradian army on your own, then I am not too old to spy on a probably friendly army."

Fado's mouth twitched into a grin. "Heh, you're right, now. Fine, but you should take someone who knows the area with you."

Karl nodded sharply. "I'll discuss it with Sir Nathan and Lady Milena." He bowed deeply and quickly. "Good reading, Your Majesty."

"Thank you," Fado answered, frowning slightly absentminded, and clumsily pulled the book back into his lap.

###

In a matter of hours everything was ready; the daughter of the fort-keeper couple, Lene, had prepared warmer clothes and Lajos' horse as well as food for the journey. They guessed that the travel down the mountain would at least take two, in the worst case three, days. The path hadn't been used for more than thirty years and was probably in a sorry state.

Karl found the young girl in the stables; she was a quiet girl (at least around her parents), who seemed to be curious about everything and if one let her, she would politely ask about every little thing that had been brought the fort from the outside world. Karl had quickly made it clear that he was not a lexicon, which didn't keep her from staring at him curiously every time she discovered something new in his presence.

"Let's not waste anymore time, Miss Lene," he said with a strict gaze and mounted his shivering horse.

"Alright," she chirped, pulled on her thick gloves and led Lajos' stallion into the cold evening.

During the trip down to the wooden gate, Karl threw several looks at the darkening sky; it was madness to travel through the dangerous mountains in the dark, but they had to act quickly. While an army in general didn't move at a fast pace, it was a hard fact that it would already be difficult to catch up with them.

The path was slippery and at many places ice was covering the stone. The freshly fallen snow, while also giving them some kind of grip, hid the ice and many a times the horses slipped and baulked. The moon was already clearly visible against the sky when Karl and Lene reached to gate.

"Sir Lajos?" Karl called and immediately clenched his teeth after the last syllable had left his mouth. The coldness hurt his teeth.

"Y-yes?" came a weak voice from above. A big shadow suddenly moved on their left – Karl's hand darted to his sword. Linnéa, huddled into her cloak, struggled to her feet. Karl relaxed with an annoyed sigh. Lajos peeked over the edge of the platform.

"We'll meet the army." Lajos nodded and crept towards the ladder.

"Sir?" Linnéa asked and walked closer. "Please let Lajos return to the fort. He's an icicle. I'll go in his stead."

"N-no," Lajos protested, clutching at the ladder. "I-I'm f-fit." Karl wrinkled his forehead and threw a dismissive glance at Linnéa.

"Sir Lajos is an experienced knight. If he–"

"A l-lady shouldn't h-have to travel in this c-cold," Lajos interrupted him; his legs almost gave away when he finally arrived on the ground. Both Linnéa and Karl glared at him. Lajos' eyes widened. Karl turned to Linnéa, forcing his anger from his face and the crankiness out of his cold bones.

"Lady Linnéa, I'd rather take him with me than send him up alone in this state." Linnéa looked him in the eye for a moment, pressing her lips shut. Eventually, she lowered her gaze and nodded.

"Alright." Walking over to Lajos, she unclasped the hook of her second cloak. She threw it over Lajos' shoulders and pulled it tight around him. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she shot him an admonishing look. "Don't argue with me, son." Then she pulled the cap over his head and finally hurried up the path, giving a short wave over her shoulder before disappearing behind the curve.

"Sir Lajos, do not detain us any longer." The young man nodded and tried to mount his horse. It took him a moment since his legs were still stiff and his arms weak. He was saved from another remark from Karl by Lene pulling the wooden gate open. She smiled warmly at them.

"We can go now." Karl nodded, pulled his scarf over his lips and kicked his horse into motion. Freezing and shivering, they started the long way down the mountains.


	3. Chapter 3

Soooo, took some time with this chapter. I kinda forgot about this because I got kinda stuck on the fourth chapter. I'm still not much further, but I like this chapter so, hey, here it is.

Also, this is one of the Non-Fado-Perspective chapters.

* * *

It was an overwhelming feeling to lead an army into enemy territory, Ephraim thought, a feeling that he liked very much. The thrill always lingered at the back of his mind, even when they were just marching; it kept him awake and alert. The music of hundreds of footsteps and thousands of hooves hitting the ground pushed against his ears; so many people were trusting him with their lives. He would not disappoint them.

The street leading towards Bethroen was oddly deserted; the last time they had met Gradian soldiers was at Rigwald, almost two weeks ago. Ephraim didn't trust the silence; it was only a question of time until the Gradian army would be ready to leave Renais completely and catch up with him. They had to hurry and reach the capital before them. He wished they could be quicker – if it were only him and a group of elite knights, they would already be crossing the sea – but he needed all of the men and women behind him.

After monotonous hours of travelling, the sun started to sink behind the horizon and blue light was slowly encasing the whole world. It was then, between twilight and night, that Ephraim heard someone hail him from the far left. Curiously, he turned in direction of the call and left the body of the army – Kyle and Forde immediately followed him. Seth only slowed down and watched them closely. Ephraim squinted through the darkness; two horses were galloping towards them. After a moment their shapes became clearer; two men, both clad in thick winter clothes, and a girl, who was peeking over the shoulder of the younger man.

"Who goes there?!" called Kyle and ushered his horse forward to shield his prince. The older man raised his right arm in greeting.

"We have a message for Prince Ephraim of Renais. I am Karl Augustin, Lord of Augustin." Ephraim recognized the name of the Renaitian region, but not the man.

"Let them come closer," he said to Kyle, who backed away unwillingly. The newcomers slowed down and came to a stop in front of them. Ephraim quickly scanned their faces; he didn't know any of them. Karl saluted grimly.

"Your Highness, it is a pleasure to see you alive and well."

"Thank you," Ephraim answered curtly. "Who sends me a message?"

"Your father, King Fado." Ephraim froze and the two knights behind him grew slightly agitated. A tense moment of silence dropped on and engulfed them until Kyle broke it.

"He's a liar, sire," he said and glared at Karl. "We know that the king is dead." Karl stiffened.

"I can assure you that he is not. My men and I personally fetched him from the gallows and brought him to Fort Lochmol." He looked Ephraim directly in the eye. "I assume Grado didn't want anybody to know that they lost him."

"Have you any evidence?" Ephraim asked with furrowed eyebrows. As much as the thought that his father was still alive was a relief, he knew better than to believe a complete stranger. He had more trust in King Hayden than this man.

Karl's expression grew strained. "No, Your Highness," he said slowly. "Your Lord Father was not well enough to accompany us and he had no personal belongings on him when we fled. What do you need to believe me?"

"I do not know if you truly are who you claim to be. How do I know that you're not a lackey of Grado?" Ephraim leaned back and watched Karl closely. For a second it seemed that he wanted to argue, but decided to choose his words more carefully. In the corner of his eyes, Ephraim saw Kyle's hand inching closer to his weapon. Forde looked relaxed though the position of his sword hand suggested otherwise.

Just as Karl opened his mouth, a call interrupted them. "Your Highness?" Seth asked as he cantered over.

"General Seth," Karl exclaimed with a hint of relief in his voice. Seth paused in surprise before bowing his head to him.

"Lord Augustin, what a surprise to meet you here."

"You know him, Seth?" Ephraim asked, looking back and forth between them. Seth nodded.

"Yes, sire. Lord Augustin had been the right hand of General Louis before he retired about twenty years ago. King Fado rewarded him with the land of Augustin for his service." Karl threw him a tired smile and nodded.

"I see." Ephraim simultaneous relaxed and grew tense; then his father was truly alive… "Good, you are who you claim to be. Then lead us to Fort Lochmol." Everybody around him seemed to be surprised by his decision.

"Sire, we cannot leave the army like this," Kyle exclaimed and rode up. "We have no time."

"I won't believe that my father is alive until I have seen him," Ephraim retorted. "How long until Fort Lochmol?" Karl had obviously recovered quickly from the surprise and was trying to hide a small, warm smile. Seth looked at them in shock and wonder.

"About two days, but we can make it in one if we hurry," exclaimed the girl behind the second man, who had both been completely forgot by all of them.

"Thank you, Miss Lene," Karl said to her with an admonishing frown. She smiled back at him and continue to closely inspected Ephraim and his group with big, curious eyes.

"One day…"

"Your Highness, it would be unwise to leave the army now," Seth said slowly, stressing his words carefully. Ephraim knew that Orson's betrayal was still fresh on Seth's mind. He himself hadn't forgot about it as well. "We're about to enter Northern []. Duke Lorenz is aggressive and will not let us pass peacefully."

"Then you'll stay and I'll go visit my father."

"Sire,–"

"No, Seth," Ephraim said, emphasizing every tiny sound, "I'm going myself. Nothing you say could hold me back." He threw him a strict look that actually managed to keep Seth silent. He would risk it; he knew this would haunt him for the rest of the campaign if he didn't investigate it now. "I assume you can lead the army for a few days on your own." Seth's jaw visibly tensed. He bowed. "Good." Ephraim turned to Karl again, who had been watching the exchange closely and with an unreadable expression. "We'll set out immediately. We should waste no time."

"Sire!" Kyle called as Ephraim nudged his horse and walked past Karl in the general direction they had come from.

"Yes, please wait, sire," Forde said and made to follow his prince. "You cannot leave alone. I'll come with you." He threw a smile at the worried-looking Kyle.

"Very well," Seth said – he sounded tense. "But please wait for a moment so we can fetch you a few provisions, Prince Ephraim." He turned and cantered back to the army – many of the Frelian soldiers watched the little group curiously as they passed them. Kyle grumbled lowly and leaned to Forde to whisper something in his ear. The blond knight laughed at him and nodded.

"Of course, I will."

Ephraim meanwhile turned to the until now neglected two members of Karl's party. "And who are you?"

"I'm Lajos of Morin, sire," Lajos said with a salute. Lene leaned over his shoulder with a grin.

"I'm Lene. My family takes care of Lochmol." She looked him up and down and ah-ed and oh-ed at everything about him. Ephraim shifted in his saddle, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. He quickly focused his attention on something else, namely on a conversation with Karl about what had happened at his father's near-execution.

Just as Karl had finished his tale – Ephraim had grown just a tiny bit queasy at the image of his father standing half-dead on the gallows; it just didn't fit with his image of his father in the slightest – Seth returned with a young soldier next to him. The young knight presented a bundle to Forde, bowed after it was taken from his hands and jogged back to find his place in the marching formation again.

"Sire, we'll wait at the Meringian Fields for four days. If you haven't returned until then, we'll sent a unit to find you and continue to Bethroen," Seth said, the implication in his voice obvious. Ephraim nodded in agreement; Seth would continue in his stead if he didn't come back. Not that he planned to disappear. He still needed to find Lyon, before that he couldn't die.

"Let's go." He turned his horse towards the mountains and barely waited for Karl and Lajos to get in the lead.

During the whole journey – from the grand street to the foot of the Borgo Mountains, and the travel up the mountains the next day – Ephraim was tense and quiet. He thought he had processed and accepted his father's death and the new duties that were lying heavily on his shoulders. And yet, there was a small side in him that was so incredibly relieved and happy that it wanted to cry. A side that had never believed his father could just die and had been denying everything. A side that had bothered him the whole time because it made him feel so weak; he had thought he was stronger than that.

The weather during their travel through the narrow mountain path was surprisingly kind; there were no snow storms or new ice on the ground so they made headway quickly. Lene had been right; they did arrive late in the evening of the new day.

Ephraim stared in wonder at the curious fort; it had been built into a large, natural cave in the mountain. Part of the fort was directly carved out of the mountain, the other part was made out of big stone blocks. The ceiling of the cave hung low over the fort so that it was protected from the snow from above; thanks to that it looked like the mountain wanted to swallow the small construction. The perfect place for a hideout, Ephraim thought as they entered the tiny courtyard. His focus was ripped away from the looming stone overhead by a gruffy looking man exiting the fort.

"Hello, Papa," Lene called from behind him. The man nodded to her once and then turned to Ephraim.

"Prince Ephraim, I assume?" he said, his voice sounding very hoarse. He broke out in a coughing fit as Ephraim nodded. Nathan pulled his scarf over his mouth until his coughing finally subsided. "Lene, take care of their horses." The girl nodded and jumped from Lajos' horse. Since nobody wanted to stay in the cold any longer than they had to, they dismounted quickly and shuffled after Lene's father into the fort.

Indoors was just as cold as outdoors, though, so there was no great comfort. When Ephraim sighed, his breath turned into a little white cloud. "Follow me," Lene's father said over his shoulder and entered the second room on the left after the entrance. This room was heated, for which all of them were grateful; there was not one limb that was not stiff from the coldness. "I'll see if the king is awake," Nathan said before quickly disappearing through the door. Ephraim looked after him for a second before slowly peeling himself out of his heavy cloak and his far-too-thin-for-this-cold gloves.

Karl sat on the chair closest to the hearth with a groan and rubbed his knees. "Are you not well?" Forde asked as he raked his hand through his ponytail to get ride of the frost clinging to his hair.

"Old age." Forde smiled in sympathy. Ephraim turned his back to them and placed his gloves and cloak strangely orderly on a table in a corner of the room. His mind was still in turmoil over, well, everything. His father's survival was proven now. He should be happy about it, he thought. He should truly be happy that he wasn't forced to become king now; his father was still there. They could continue to live like they always had; his father took care of Renais by discussing and arguing, and Ephraim took care of Renais by going out and fighting.

The other side in him whispered to him that nothing would ever be like it was before. His old life had been destroyed by Grado. As usual, Ephraim ignored the voice and took a deep breath. First he would meet his father, about the rest he could still think later.

The door opened again and Lene's father poked his head in to say "The king is up" and then disappeared immediately again. Ephraim nodded and straightened. Karl stood up.

"I'll show you the way," he said. Ephraim followed him out the door while Forde stayed behind by the fire. They just crossed the corridor to the next door on the right. Karl knocked twice and called loudly for the king. Annoyed, Ephraim noticed that his hands were sweating and his heart beat speeding up. "King Fado?" Karl asked again and then just opened the door. Ephraim followed him into the room.

A lump pressed against his throat as Ephraim saw his father sitting on the bed, bent low over a thick book and reading intently. It truly was his father, there was no doubt. He looked almost like Ephraim remembered him; he seemed a bit haggard and a scar ran over his left cheek – from the middle of his cheek till a few centimetres behind his ear – and Ephraim already thought to himself that he hadn't expected anything else. Then his gaze fell to his father's right arm. He froze for a second as his gaze searched for the arm. The… _blank space_ looked so… wrong to him. Almost unreal.

"Your Majesty?" Karl asked – to Ephraim it sounded oddly dull, as if he were under water. His gaze was still glued to his father's right side.

"Not now, Karl," Fado said without looking up and made a shooing gesture towards them. His father's voice yanked Ephraim out of his strange stupor. This was real, he repeated to himself. Everything was real.

"Father." His voice was strong and calm. Fado stopped dead in his tracks; his eyes no longer hastened over the small lines on the page. He looked up slowly and their gazes met.

Ephraim felt queasy again – how was one supposed to feel after one met someone who was thought to be dead? His heart thumped loudly against his chest. Fado blinked once, blinked twice, opened his mouth, but for a long time nothing came out.

"Ephraim," he whispered eventually. Ephraim nodded dumbly. Suddenly a knot seemed to have exploded since Fado pushed the book from his lap, not even caring if he lost his page or if the paper got crunched up, and struggled out of the bed and to his feet.

"Your Majesty, please be careful," Karl said as he stepped forward, outstretching his arms to support Fado should he need it. Fado ignored him and fixed his gaze on Ephraim. Almost numb, Ephraim set into motion.

As soon as Ephraim was in reach, Fado's left arm shot out and pulled Ephraim close. Even the hug felt odd to Ephraim; his father's grip was still tight, but so… one-sided. This was no longer the vice-like embrace he knew from his father. Almost hesitantly, Ephraim returned the hug.

"Ephraim, I'm so glad to see you," Fado whispered and clasped Ephraim's back of the head, petting it awkwardly. Fado stroked his head once, then pulled back to press a kiss to Ephraim's forehead. Ephraim didn't find the words to scold his father for the kiss as he normally did. For once it was comforting and not embarrassing.

"I'm glad to see you as well, Father." The words were heavy on his tongue and didn't fall from his mouth easily. His emotions pressed against his throat and he had no intention to let them slip out. To see the hint of tears of happiness in his father's eyes was a heavy blow to his resolve, but he managed to keep the upper hand. Fado's gaze flickered over him and Ephraim felt himself tense. The shaky smile – the fight against his tears seemed to be hard – Fado showed him after looking him up and down only barely relaxed Ephraim. At least that hadn't changed much.

"You look so mature." Fado chuckled and shook his head.

Ephraim frowned. "I haven't been a child for years, father."

"Of course not." Ephraim squinted at his father; he was unable to decide if Fado was mocking him or not. Only slowly and seemingly unwillingly, Fado ripped his gaze away from him and nodded over to two chairs at the window. "Come, let us sit down and then you'll tell me what happened." Ephraim nodded and walked over. Fado turned to the bed and made a grab for his blanket, but Karl had already picked up a thick fur cloak that had been lying by the fire and offered it to Fado. He wrinkled his nose at the cloak but nevertheless slipped into it.

"I'll leave you alone, Your Majesty," Karl said and bowed to Fado. "Your Highness," he directed at Ephraim and bowed as well. Ephraim acknowledged him with a nod, but Fado had only eyes for Ephraim. Slightly unsteady on his feet, he walked over and sat down.

"Have you seen Eirika?" he asked before he had completely settled down.

"Yes, and she is well."

Fado released a deep, relieved sigh. "Hayden took good care of her, then." He nodded and smiled to himself. "I knew he wouldn't disappoint me. Eirika is in Frelia?"

Ephraim shook his head. "No. She's on her way to Rausten."

"Rausten?" Fado all but exclaimed. He frowned deeply. "Why would she go to Rausten? I sent her to Frelia so that she would be safe."

"We all wanted her to stay there, but she had other plans." A tiny smirk tugged at Ephraim's lips. "Grado tries to destroy the Sacred Stones. Innes is on his way to Jehanna to warn Queen Ismaire and Eirika chose to go to Rausten to warn the Pontifex. She didn't take 'no' for an answer." Fado reclined in his chair. His face had grown a tad white at Ephraim's words.

"Eirika…" he sighed eventually and shook his head. "I don't understand why she would do that."

"She doesn't have a choice, does she?"

"She has. She could've stayed in Frelia." Maybe it was the expression on his father's face or the tone of his voice, but something made Ephraim snap his mouth shut and stay silent. From the outside it seemed like his father was fighting with himself. Ephraim could clearly see the worry on his face – or rather he could decode the stony and blank expression – but there was also another emotion mixed into it. And said emotion slowly won Fado over. Eventually, he shook his head with a tired smile. "She's a little fighter. Just like us, isn't she?" Ephraim nodded.

"King Hayden provided her with soldiers. She won't be in much danger."

Fado nodded absentminded and the smile on his face slowly widened. Then he raised his gaze to meet Ephraim's. "And you are on the way to Grado?"

Ephraim nodded, his expression gently freezing up. "Yes. I'm on the way to the capital. I intend to take it before the main body of the Gradian army can return." He hesitated for a second. "And I have to talk to Lyon. He can surely help us stop Emperor Vigarde."

Now it was Fado's turn to tense. He turned away and looked out of the window. "Vigarde is in the capital…"

"According to our last report, he is." Ephraim fell silent and waited for his father to react. When he kept silent for too long, Ephraim straightened in his seat and crossed his legs. "I doubt that we can persuade him to stop this war." He threw a pointed look at his father, but he still ignored him. "We probably have to defeat Emperor Vigarde."

"That's not Vigarde," Fado suddenly snapped and yanked his head around, a strange furiousness flickering over his face. Ephraim felt like he was just slapped across the face and frowned.

"What do you mean, father?" he asked defensively. They stared at each other for a moment, both angry and both stubborn. After a moment, Fado's lips tensed and in a matter of seconds all anger disappeared and was replaced with tiredness and a hint of pain. He shook his head.

"Nothing. This is just not the Vigarde I know." He stared out of the window again.

Ephraim reclined, feeling incredibly awkward. He watched his father, but he seemed to be lost in his thoughts and after several long minutes, Ephraim stood up. "Father, I'll retire for now. I–"

"We'll talk later," Fado interrupted him. Ephraim nodded and left the room with a strange, unpleasant feeling gathering in his gut.

###

Shortly after the sun had disappeared behind the edge of the overarching cave and the coldness outside had grown unbearable, the fort keepers called for dinner. It was held in a long, small room at the very back of the fort; the table was far too short to house so many people, so they used wooden boxes, barrels and a low cupboard to lengthen it. Ephraim and Forde were placed at the normal table while the other guests had to deal with the makeshift solution. They seemed to be used to it, though.

Just after Ephraim had settled and was watching the other guests – Karl's soldiers, he assumed, though only one seemed to be a professional fighter – Milena entered with a broad and shallow pot. Behind her Lene slipped in with two loaves of bread in her arms. Milena placed the pot on the table and smiled at Ephraim.

"It is only a plain meal, Your Highness. I apologize for the simpleness of it." Ephraim shook his head, slightly unnerved by her thin smile – she looked like she was holding back anger or hatred.

"I'm thankful for every meal you provide for us." She seemed to like his answer for her smile disappeared. Lene grinned openly at him and offered him one loaf. He took it, she blushed and skipped to the makeshift tables and gave the other bread to the green-haired woman with the scar over her lip.

Milena quickly distributed the stew – while Ephraim had no love for salt meat, it did smell great – and just as everybody present had got their share, the door opened and Fado, Karl and the fort keeper entered. Ephraim immediately stood. His father looked tired and ill-humoured. He barely spoke but just sat down next to Ephraim. Ephraim sunk on his stool, watching his father from the corner of his eyes. It didn't seem to him like Fado wanted to show his bad mood – he knew his father well enough to read the lines on his forehead correctly – so he concluded that his father was bothered greatly. Even his mumbled thanks to Milena as he accepted his food sounded strained.

Dinner was mostly consumed in silence. Only Lene, the boy Ephraim heard being called Iustus and the green-haired lady were conversing lowly. Ephraim couldn't determine if because of their talking or despite their talking the awkward silence seemed worse and much more oppressing. Only after everybody had finished his meal, and Milena and Lene had disappeared with the dishes, Ephraim turned to his father.

Fado was quicker though. "I assume you're returning to your army tomorrow."

"Yes," Ephraim answered and straightened.

Fado's expression was dark when he turned to look him in the eyes. "I'm accompanying you." Ephraim was not truly surprised.

Karl leaned forward to look past Ephraim. "Your Majesty, are you sure you are fit enough to travel?"

Fado shot him a dark look. "Yes." He immediately turned back to Ephraim. "I will not stay here while my son is fighting for my country. I'm still king and it is my responsibility to take revenge." His face twitched at the last word, though it was so quick that Ephraim barely noticed it.

Ephraim squared his shoulders. "I understand, father, but this is my campaign and I–"

"_I_ am still king." Ephraim was taken aback by the whiff of rage on his father's face, but he was long past the stage where he would've been intimidated by him. "And this is my duty."

"Those men have decided to follow _me_ and to fight for my cause. You cannot take them." Ephraim's face darkened with a frown. "And you are not fit to lead an army, father." Ephraim saw the sting his words caused in his father's eyes. "I would appreciate your counsel and advice, but you are not fit to fight with my men."

"Not yet," Fado whispered under his breath. His eyes bore into Ephraim's.

"I'm sorry, father, but this is my fight and my war. I invite you to be part of it, but I am the leader of this army and this will not change." Fado's jaw visibly tensed. They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment – the whole room was deadly silent. A needle falling on the ground would've seemed as loud as the breaking of glass. Some even seemed to hold their breaths. Suddenly Fado's eyes narrowed. Ephraim steeled himself for another argument.

"Alright." Ephraim actually flinched at his father's word. "Alright, Ephraim." Fado nodded and reclined in his chair, his shoulders slumping as if this argument had drained all strength from his body, but his head was still held high. Ephraim regarded his father with doubt in his eyes. It would be the first time that his father gave up his position this quickly. "But if I'm not content with your leadership, I will take over." Ephraim felt like he was just punched in the stomach; flabbergasted, he could only stare at his father in disbelief. Fado stood up. "Karl, make everything ready for tomorrow," he said over his shoulder – Karl nodded, his expression betraying no emotion. Just as Fado grabbed the handle of the door, Ephraim sprung to his feet.

"Father!" Fado just closed the door. Ephraim gritted his teeth, glaring at the door. After a second of rage, he took a deep breath. His boiling blood cooled only slowly.

"Sir?" Forde asked from behind him. Ephraim huffed, turned abruptly and sat down, grabbing his jug of watered-down wine. He downed it in one go. "This will be an interesting journey, sir, won't it," Forde whispered. Ephraim glared at him, which caused Forde to shrug with a crooked smile. He wasn't right, Ephraim knew, this would be a complicated journey.

###

Karl hesitated for the fraction of a second before he knocked on Fado's room door. "Your Majesty?" he called and lowered his head, his hand hovering over the handle. It took a good ten seconds until he heard a grunted answer. He pushed the door open gently and found Fado standing next to the bed, fumbling with his trousers. "Your Majesty, may I disturb you for a moment?"

"Yes." Fado sounded annoyed and so Karl moved very quietly; he closed the door and walked over. He found that Fado's voice only sounded strange because he was holding one end of his trousers' waistband between his teeth.

"Your Majesty, may I help you?" His answer was a glare. Karl understood; he turned away, looking towards the window, and only glanced at Fado at every annoyed grunt of the king. "I have arranged our departure tomorrow." Fado grumbled – Karl saw that he tried to tie a knot in his waistband, but the string slid through his fingers. "I have spoken with Lady Linnéa and Iustus and they want to come with us. Sir Nathan has offered them a place to stay until the next time he descends the mountain so that they could leave with him. But they want to support us and Renais."

Fado was frowning angrily. His waistband had just escaped his grip again so he had to yank his trousers up again and simultaneously fish for the string.

"Lady Raphaela has decided – after a discussion with Sir Lajos – that it would be safer for her to accompany us as well. There is no family or friends she could return to. She is also an excellent archer so she'll be very useful." Karl waited for an affirmation, but Fado was too concentrated on holding and tying his waistband at the same time. "Sir Nathan and Lady Milena are currently preparing provisions for our journey. There are not enough horses for everyone so you'll have to ride with me again, Your Majesty."

Just as Karl had finished his report, the string once again sashayed through Fado's fingers and this time he growled loudly in annoyance. He let his trouser fall down to his ankles and stared at the ceiling with gritted teeth, his chest heaving with anger. Karl held his breath for a second, averted his gaze and stiffened.

"Your Majesty, may I offer you my assistance?" Karl counted the seconds it took until Fado responded in his head; seventeen.

"Yes." With slightly stiff motions, Karl turned and dropped to his knees, grabbing the hem of Fado's trousers, pulled it up and swiftly tied the knot. Fado continued to stare at the ceiling through the whole ordeal. Karl bowed and stepped aside, staring out of the window again. "Thank you," Fado said curtly. Karl heard him huff and sit down on the bed. "Everything's prepared…"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Karl turned and it seemed to be safe to look at Fado now. The king seemed exhausted. Karl dropped his gaze for a moment, contemplating how to phrase his concern correctly, and when he finally found a phrasing he liked, he stepped into Fado's range of vision. "Your Majesty, may I be frank with you for a moment?"

"I prefer it." Karl imagined that a trace of his old humour laced his king's voice.

"Your Majesty, do you not believe that you were exceptionally hostile to Prince Ephraim?" Fado sprung to his feet, but didn't look Karl in the eye.

"Nonsense!" He pushed past Karl towards the window, turning his back to Karl. "The boy needed to know that he's not ready yet to lead an army. A small squadron is not the same as an army! How do I know that he understands the responsibility on his shoulders?" Fado slapped his hand on the windowsill and leaned heavily on it.

"My King, hasn't Prince Ephraim proved himself already those last months?"

"He's still a child!" Fado retorted and his fingers clenched.

"But—"

"Only a child would claim that he's not a child anymore. He is still a boy." Karl pressed his mouth into a thin line and watched Fado's back. Fado breathed hard and quick, his shoulders heaving with each breath. Karl narrowed his eyes as he noticed that Fado's shoulders were also trembling lightly. He was silent, though, for a long while.

Suddenly, Fado leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. "I'm not invalid," Fado whispered so lowly that Karl almost missed it.

"Your—"

"I'm fit to lead an army." Fado's voice grew louder and Karl's mouth immediately snapped shut. "Just because I cannot hold a sword, I can still lead. I…" His breathing grew irregular and his shoulders shook visible; his voice got a slight tremble as well. "I don't need to be able to fight to lead." Karl heard Fado swallow hard. "That boy has no right to call me _unfit to lead_."

Karl stepped forward and carefully placed his hand on Fado's left shoulder. The king hiccuped. "Your Majesty–"

"He _invites_ me to join him. I–" Another hiccup cut him off and it took Fado a second to collect himself. "I'm not useless, Karl. I'm not," he whispered.

"Nobody said that, Your Majesty."

Fado tsked dismissively and pushed himself away from the window. "Then what else did Ephraim mean when he said that I'm not fit to lead? That I'm a weakling because I cannot wield a weapon anymore? That I'm pathetic because I can't even dress myself?!" Fado raised his head, chin stuck out, and stared ahead. Karl detected a trace of moisture in his eyes.

"You only need some time to adapt, Your Majesty," Karl argued. "I am certain that it will take only a few weeks until I see you with a sword in hand on a training field and defeat one man after another." The corners of Fado's mouth twitched upwards. He closed his eyes, his nose wrinkling every so slightly, and nodded.

"Maybe." He took a deep breath, raised his hand to rub his eyes and then turned to smile at Karl. "Thank you." Karl pulled his hand from Fado's shoulder and bowed deeply.

"It's an honour, My King." Fado's mouth twitched again and he nodded absentminded. Karl watched him carefully.

"That is all, Karl," he said and Karl thought he sounded tired.

"Your Majesty, I am sure that soon you'll be back in form." Karl closely watched Fado's reaction, but this time the king's face remained blank.

"I hope so." Karl missed Fado's usual confidence in his words, but he decided that he would not yet worry about it. The king had endured much today and his mind was exhausted. After he bid Fado goodnight and left the room, Karl decided that he would ask again tomorrow and if the king was still so subdued then, he would do something.


	4. Chapter 4

So, this one took even longer than the other. But I think that I might have found my muse for this fic again. At least I hope. Anyway, I found that especially the fifth chapter will deal more with Fado's depression and doubts. Losing an arm and therewith destroying Fado's self-image will have a great influence on his mind. But I really like and find the contrast between his optimistic personality and the depression fascinating. It's a great thing to explore.

* * *

_If the weeks before had been death, then the return to the battlefield was rebirth. In a tent or at the head of the army, both felt as much like home as his rooms in the castle._

When Fado awoke early the next morning, the future didn't seem as bleak and dark as yesterday. Even after he had stood up and was waiting for Karl coming to help him dress, he was still in a relatively good mood. He wondered if it was because something was finally moving. Especially he himself. The long weeks of immobility had weakened his mind as much as his body. As he now looked out into the grey morning, he felt strong.

_I will prevail. I will return to Renais and rebuild it. That imposter will not defeat me._ He gritted his teeth as the image of that blank face appeared before his eyes. He should've noticed earlier that something hadn't been right. And why hadn't he noticed what the imposter had been planning? How did no information about Grado gathering an army get out of the country? And how come that Hayden didn't tell him? The imposter had to be very good to deceive Hayden.

Fado's thoughts were rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in, Karl," Fado called over his shoulder, but didn't turn.

"Sire?" asked a boyish voice. Fado blinked surprised and looked to the door. Iustus stood in the door frame and shifted from left to right. "Sir Karl sent me to help you." Fado wrinkled his forehead and nodded. "Sir Karl still has to organise something for the departure," Iustus explained as he closed the door. "I'm helping you today. If that is alright with you?" he quickly added.

"Yes," Fado said, then motioned over to the chair next to the fire place, where a stack of fresh clothes was lying. Iustus hurried over and sorted the clothes while Fado undressed. He watched the boy out of the corners of his eyes; Iustus still seemed skittish, which irked Fado; he thought back in the forest he had made it clear that he was no one to be afraid of. Worse than his annoying behaviour was, though, that now some boy Fado didn't know would see him in this… arm-less state – defenceless and vulnerable. It was already bad enough that Karl had witnessed that he was not even able to dress himself. But if he didn't let him do it, he would have to wait – probably endlessly because Karl was nitpicking – just because he couldn't–

Fado quickly turned his head away, pressing his eyes close. _You are _not _an invalid,_ he screamed at his mind. _You are not weak. You are still a warrior._

"Sire?" Iustus asked shyly. Fado released a deep breath through his nose, opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to the boy. Now Iustus was truly frightened. Fado tried to relax his expression, but the anger seemed to be engraved in his forehead and corners of the mouth. Fado just nodded and stepped into the trousers after Iustus slowly – and always throwing insecure glances up at him – knelt and held them out for Fado.

Thankfully Iustus only offered him the shirts and let him put them on himself. Fado was embarrassed at how much that made him feel better. The anger slowly dissipated and the shame only lingered in the corners of his eyes in form of three little wrinkles on each side. As he pulled his second shirt over his head, Fado suddenly heard the boy speak. When he threw a glance over, he saw that Iustus had his back turned to him. Fado wondered if Iustus found the silence uncomfortable or if he just tried to distract Fado so that he wouldn't look so mad. Either way, Fado himself hadn't liked the silence – talking and listening would distract him from his thoughts – and he appreciated the boy's efforts.

"– and we have no fresh water, because it would quickly freeze. At least Lene told me that. We have to eat snow when we get thirsty," Iustus babbled as he buckled Fado's belt and then grabbed the padded vest. "I hadn't even thought about that before. It must be hard to live in such a cold region." He held the vest so that Fado only had to slide in. "Lady Linnéa later told me that she could never live here." He tied the vest close.

"Néa," Fado corrected absentmindedly as he tugged on the vest.

"Excuse me, sire?" Iustus asked confused and almost let fall the needle he wanted to use to pin up the useless sleeve of Fado's tunic – Fado's question seemed to have ripped him out of his thoughts. _Then he truly tried to distract himself from the silence_.

"She wants to be called Néa," Fado explained.

"Oh, but…" Iustus hesitated and walked over, needle now firmly in hand. "The priest of my convent taught me that I'm always supposed to call people by their proper title."

"Which is certainly correct in some situations. But we're not in a convent nor at any official congregation," Fado said with a smile. "We can bend the rules. And Néa would be much happier if you'd call her by her preferred name." Iustus nodded slowly and smiled as he finished pinning up the sleeve.

"Alright, sire. If you say so, I will call her Ma'am Néa." Fado smiled, almost amused at how much that seemed to relax Iustus. "So, only the glove is left, then you are ready," Iustus announced. Fado watched Iustus as the boy struggled to pull the stiff leather over his hand and he was decidedly amused at Iustus' concentrated expression. "Ready, sire." Iustus smiled proudly.

"Thank you."

Iustus bowed his head. "It was an honour, sire." The words seemed to fall from his tongue easily.

"Let's eat breakfast now," Fado said and walked to the door. "I'm starving." Iustus promptly followed him and Fado silently thanked him for brightening his mood again. He was happy to know that even if he lost hope sometimes, there were things that could cheer him up.

###

When Fado entered the small dining room, he immediately noticed a blond knight sitting on the chair directly opposite of the room door. Fado smiled broadly; Forde returned the smile.

"Forde!" Fado exclaimed and strode over to him.

Forde stood and bowed deep. "Your Majesty, I'm happy to see you in good health." Fado clasped his arm around Forde's shoulders and pulled him into a short hug. While he wouldn't have greeted him like that back in the days, now he was so glad to see people he knew alive that he didn't care. He wanted and needed to show them that he was happy to see them. And to show that he himself was alive and here and not dead. Forde looked amused and surprised for a second before returning the short hug. Fado was extraordinarily happy about that.

"You look good," he said with a grin. Forde bowed his head. Fado hm-ed contented, sat down and looked around for food. Linnéa met his gaze and waved to him. The others just bowed. Suddenly there was a bowl of gruel in front of his face; Lady Milena left immediately after putting it down. Fado had only caught a short glance of her face, but she seemed stressed. He wondered if that was Karl's fault. Fado could vividly recall how painstakingly correct and flawless Karl's preparations had to be. He sighed and quickly dug in.

Half-way into his meal, the door opened again and Fado glanced up. "Ephraim," he exclaimed and straightened. Ephraim seemed strangely reserved when he greeted his father and sat next to him. Fado returned his gaze to his food; while he understood that he had been a tad harsh yesterday, he thought that that was no reason for Ephraim to pout. And what he had said wasn't that bad anyway. Fado shrugged inwardly; Ephraim should've been over it already. Back in the days he would've been.

"We'll leave in about two hours." Ephraim's words ripped Fado from his thoughts.

"I see. The weather has cleared?"

"No, but Miss Lene will assist us." Fado nodded and took another gulp of gruel. After setting down the bowl, he turned to look at Ephraim again.

"Are you not eating?"

"I already have," Ephraim said, shaking his head. Fado nodded. They fell silent and Fado didn't quite like it. It was a very strained silence and one that had no need to exist. After everything that happened, Fado wanted to be close to his children so that he would have nothing to regret when he'd truly die.

Fado quickly finished his meal – most of the others had already left to gather their things – and reclined in his chair. That slightly annoyed expression was still on Ephraim's face, though he obviously didn't want his father to notice.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you as a leader," Fado said. Ephraim crinkled his forehead and threw a look of astonishment at him. Fado felt slightly hurt that this warranted such a feeling of surprise. "I can't remember ever seeing you in total charge of a troupe. After you've grown out of your tutors, I sent you as my substitute so it would've been silly for me to come with you." Fado smiled gently. "I only ever heard good things, but never saw them. I'm curious what the truth is and what proud hyperbole." He chuckled at his last words. Ephraim finally cracked a smile and nodded. "I remember a certain tutor of yours who was prone to overstate both yours and Eirika's achievements."

"But he was also the one who expected most of us," Ephraim added. Fado grinned; Ephraim was opening up again.

"Hmm, I also had the 'pleasure' to be taught by him." Fado nodded amused as he thought back at those short years and how he had hated that certain teacher. He crinkled his nose.

"Yes, we heard many comparisons."

Fado blinked surprised. "Did he?"

Ephraim nodded and his half-smile widened into a smirk. "He always said he didn't know where Eirika got her aptitude for learning from."

"What?!" Fado exclaimed and laughed. "That rascal!" Ephraim joined him in his laughing and that made Fado happier than he thought it would. After they quieted down, he threw a long, warm look at Ephraim. It seemed all anger had left the boy. Fado contemplated if he should tell Ephraim some of the many things he had thought about during the last two months; how he had missed him and his sister, how proud of him he was, how he would be a fine king one day. But before he could decide, the door opened and Karl entered.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said and bowed deeply. "The preparations went well and we can leave now. Are you ready?" Fado smirked amused. Karl must've found no more resistance in his demands; this went over exceptionally fast.

"We are," Fado answered and stood up. Giddiness spread through his veins; finally he would get out of this fort and be able to ride and travel and maybe even fight again. The long months of immobility were finally over. With more hope and confidence than he had in a long time, Fado walked out into the courtyard.

###

The cold wind bit and tore at Fado's skin. He felt ice creeping up from his beard and coating his cheeks and no matter how often he wiped it off, it returned in a matter of minutes. The crunching of his boots on the frozen path was completely swallowed by the howling of the wind; the walls of the path were high and kept the wind from escaping. Fado's teeth had long stop chattering – he hadn't known that they could be too cold to chatter.

The little group stumbled and slithered down the mountain; they had long dismounted from their horses – the animals were struggling enough already. Fado had refused to ride anyway; not only because he would have to ride together with someone again, but also because he needed to use his legs. While there had been no mirrors in the fort, he knew that he had lost weight. After those months of lying around, he had grown weak and that he could never accept. Walking and training would turn him again into the man he once was.

"Eek!" could be heard from behind. Fado threw a glance over his shoulder, but he couldn't see the victim, only Linnéa's grimace and Iustus' blueish face. The boy didn't seem to fare well. Fado was a tad worried, but there was nothing that could be done. They needed to hasten before anyone froze to death.

Slowly the weather began to change; the snow grew lighter and wetter. After a particularly steep curve, Fado suddenly felt raindrops drumming on his hood. When he looked up, the clouds were much higher over his head than before. The ice and snow disappeared from the ground and were replaced by tiny torrents of water. Instead of slippery ice, slippery stone threatened to break their bones. The wind still pushed them down the mountain.

Not much later, the stone began to disappear beneath brown earth. The first sturdy hassocks dared to show their heads. The towering walls of the path started to shrink until they disappeared. Fado let his gaze roam over the no longer hidden world before him. They were still far from the foot of the mountain range, but he could already see the dark and light patches of green. His heart jumped to his throat with glee; no more damned snow anymore. His steps were decidedly lighter now despite his tiredness.

The others seemed to be relieved by the change as well; their pace quickened and some even mounted the horses again – Fado heard Linnéa ushering Iustus onto her mare. Fado peeked over his shoulder to see if Karl would come and pester him again, but the old knight was clutching the reins as if they were the sole thing keeping him on his feet. Fado slowed and watched Karl concerned. Karl noticed him staring; he returned his gaze for a second before pain clouded his eyes and he carefully stepped over a rock.

Fado stood and waited until Karl caught up to him. "Are you not feeling well?"

Karl shook his head. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. Miss Lene said after the next curve the ground is more even. I'll mount then." Fado nodded relieved. He adjusted his pace so that he could stay with Karl.

After Karl had mounted his horse a few moments later, the knight threw a long, strict look at Fado. He looked back impassively; he didn't feel like arguing about this again. Instead, he forced a small smile on his face and turned. His pace was quicker than before, he noticed; he had the inexplicable need to get away from Karl. He was content with his decision to walk. Karl's maybe correct concerns about his health and strength were a nuisance – his legs were feeling very heavy by now, that was true, but that was no reason to stop. That only stirred up the doubt in him.

Releasing a deep breath through his nose, Fado's strides grew bigger. He would only concentrate on the things ahead of him, only on the future.

Night fell when they were only a two hour walk away from the plane; they made camp behind a tall stray rock so that they were at least a bit protected from the still raging wind. The night passed agonizingly slowly for Fado, whose thoughts and hopes ran too wild for sleep despite his body screaming for rest. He was one of the first to wake up and watched the sun rising over the mountain range.

_Grado Keep is behind them_, he thought, his forehead wrinkling. _There I'll find out the truth_. He gritted his teeth. _I'll take revenge for them sullying Vigarde's name._

Fado's head whirled around when he heard footsteps behind him. Surprise relaxed his features when he saw Lene walk over to him. The girl looked uncharacteristically sad. She stood next to him and stared at the sunrise.

"Good morning, Miss Lene," Fado said, tilting his head so he could look up to her.

"Good morning," she mumbled. After a short pause she squatted down next to him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You may."

"Why has it to be my family?" Fado frowned confused. "Why are we stuck in that mountain?" Her gaze was sad – and there was also a smidgen of anger hidden in a dark corner.

Fado shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Your family has been there as long as I can remember." Frowning contemplatively, he raised his eyes to the sun; half of it peeked over the mountain tops already.

"I see." Her voice sounded so depressed and defeated that it seemed like it was not her own. Fado shifted and turned to her. All of her energy seemed to have left her; her arms were hanging lifelessly, her face was half hidden behind her knees and her eyelids were drooping. "I want to go away." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I don't want to stay in that fort for the rest of my life. My brother managed to escape because he was the older one. But I cannot leave." She looked at the ground again. "I'll have to stay there forever and only visit the outside world every other month. I don't…"

"Miss Lene," Fado said quietly; the others behind them were slowly waking up and he didn't want them to notice. Her eyes were swimming with tears when she looked at him. "I'm sorry that this is causing you so much pain." She sniffed lowly. "I cannot do anything now. Renais is–" the word stuck in his throat for a second, "destroyed and I don't have the power to change your situation. But I promise," he put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it lightly, "that I will not forget you." A tiny smile tugged at Lene's mouth.

"Really?" She sounded like a little girl, Fado thought. She reminded him of Eirika. He nodded and the thought of Eirika brought a fatherly smile on his face. In the fraction of a second the sadness and desperation disappeared from Lene's face and was replaced by a face-splitting grin. "Thank you!" She attacked him with a hug that almost toppled him over. In a knee-jerk reaction, he laughed loudly and returned her hug. "Thank you." Her eyes were shining brightly when she pulled back.

"Your Majesty?" Fado grinned up at Karl, who looked at him with slight wonder and at Lene with a reprimand for her lack of manners. "Breakfast is prepared."

###

When there was only flat land in front of him, Fado stretched his arms– _arm_, he corrected himself, gritting his teeth. He stretched his arm and tried to push the dark thoughts away. He took a deep breath of the fresh and not freezing cold air. He couldn't wait to meet up with the army. He wanted to see all the tents and the weapons glinting and the horses neighing and nervously pawing.

After releasing a deep sigh, Fado turned on his axis. The others were still gathering themselves and also enjoying the normal weather. Karl had dismounted and he and Ephraim were walking towards Lene. Fado strode over to join them.

"Thank you for everything, Miss Lene," Karl said and bowed. "You have been an indispensable aid. Please thank your lord and lady parents as well." Lene nodded, her customary happy smile on her face again.

"I can only repeat his words," Ephraim said. "Thank you for your help and that you took in my father in a time of need." Fado's smile was a tad lopsided.

"It was no great thing," Lene chirped, "it's what we're there for." Her gaze flickered over to Fado – it was empty –, but her smile didn't fell. In a matter of seconds, the emptiness had vanished again. Karl bowed to her and Ephraim nodded – they hadn't noticed the sudden change.

"Miss Lene." Fado stepped forward and placed his hand on Lene's shoulder. "Thank you for everything. Please take care of yourself on your way up." He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "I won't forget your hospitality." Her lips seemed to tense for a second.

"Thank you," she whispered, then grinned as brightly as the sun. "And there's not much danger on the path. Only snow and the cold and I know how to protect myself from them."

"Good. Farewell, then." She nodded and peeked around them, calling for the others and waving. Iustus, Linnéa and Raphaela returned her wave while Lajos bowed in farewell. Lene threw a last long look at Ephraim, giggled and then turned and sped up the mountain path, jumping like a deer. Fado watched her for a moment; he didn't worry about her. She was a strong girl.

Releasing a deep breath through his nose, he turned – his spirits couldn't be higher. With long strides, he walked over to Karl's horse. "Karl, you're riding with me." He didn't hear any protest. Fado was glad that Karl knew him well enough that he didn't argue. He wanted to leave already and stir the horse himself and feel that he could still ride on his own. That he wouldn't need to ride with someone else forever.

"Very well, Your Majesty." Fado picked up the reins and halted when he grabbed the horse's mane. Could he swing himself up alone? While he could make the stirrups longer, he couldn't correct them later on. His forehead crinkled in anger. _Another stupid obstacle._ He glared at the stirrups. "Your Majesty, might I assist you?"

"I doubt that you can push me up, Karl." He threw a concerned glance over his shoulder.

Karl lowered his gaze. "You are right, My King. My apologies." Fado admired him for a second that he could admit that he was not strong enough at the moment. _You'll be able to do that as well. Sometime in the future…_ Fado frowned at himself.

"Make the stirrups longer," he said after turning his head forwards again. Karl immediately obeyed and with that help it was easier to mount than Fado had thought; he was elated by that. "Are you all ready?" Fado called over his shoulder after the stirrups were the right length again and Karl had mounted behind him.

"We are," Ephraim answered and rode up to him. Fado grinned.

"Excellent. Lead the way, back to _your_ army." Fado imagined that Ephraim's shoulders lost some of their tension, but he wasn't sure. Ephraim turned and held his hand up.

"Let's go!" he called and forcefully motioned forwards. Then he kicked his horse in the side. Fado grinned giddily and nudged his horse. In a matter of seconds, they were speeding over the plains.

###

When Fado saw the first tent poles appear at the horizon, he couldn't hold back a 'whoop' of elation. He kicked his horse rather ungently in the side and outpaced Ephraim and Forde. Karl's grip around his middle tightened. Fado didn't care; so much adrenalin shot through his body that he could hear nothing but his heartbeat and the drumming of the hooves. It was truly like coming home – the same warm feelings that he always got when the first towers of Renais Castle appeared at the horizon tickled his skin. He grinned like a little boy who had just got his very first practice sword and only noticed at a little jump of his horse that he was relaxing far too much. Just as he was slipping sideways – _of course the armless side_ – Karl gently pulled him back.

A few moments after Fado's call, he saw movement at the outer edges of the camp. People were moving and the sun was reflected on bright metal. Even though the sight truly shouldn't make him even more giddy, it did.

When they were finally close enough that Fado could see a redhead walking towards them, the elation gently declined. _This is normal_, he thought as he slowed his horse. _This is where I belong. Now everything can be rightened._ And maybe even Karl's words could come true now. Actually, at the moment Fado was sure that everything would end well.

"Well met, My King!" Seth called and bowed deep. Fado grinned at him. He had to wait until Karl had dismounted before he could jump down as well – he was already getting itchy with impatience. "It is a wonder and great pleasure to see you well and alive." When he finally had earth beneath his boots, Fado clutched Seth into a tight hug. Seth seemed surprised for a moment and only awkwardly placed his hands on Fado's sides. That Fado had expected.

He stepped back and scrutinized Seth. "You've survived the fall far better than I," he said, his nose wrinkled in amusement. Seth lowered his gaze.

"Sire," he only said. Fado paused confused, but then continued if nothing had happened – maybe he would ask later.

"I owe you much," Fado continued. "You've delivered Eirika to Frelia safely." At that Seth cracked a tiny smile and shook his head.

"You don't owe me anything, Your Majesty. I did what I've sworn to do. And the state of safety lasted only shortly."

Fado chuckled. "Ephraim already told me." He slapped his hand on Seth's shoulder. "There was nothing you could've done." Seth's smile turned slightly wry.

The others had all arrived and dismounted by now and after a short greeting from Seth, their horses were taken by squires and they were guided into the camp.

"We've planned to continue our journey the day after tomorrow," Seth told Fado and Ephraim after the rest of their group had left to find their quickly assigned tents. While listening, Fado looked around. The dirty brownish white of the tent cloth was as pleasing to his eyes as the familiar paintings and furniture in his private rooms. The stench of horses, fire, men and women who had little chance to wash themselves, and weapon polish was as cosy as the smell of the castle flowers and freshly brewed Renaitian tea. The sight of the Renaitian and Frelian flag trembling together in the light breeze made him grin.

"Then you've replenished our supply?" Ephraim asked and ripped Fado's attention away from a small group of soldiers sitting around a small fire and sharpening their weapons – his hand twitched with yearning as his eyes glided over the shiny metal and dark hilts. Maybe Fado's ability to focus on two things at the same time wasn't that good after all.

"The corn, yes," Seth said with a nod. "We passed a small village and could get some. The Gradian army had been there before us, though, and so they only had little."

"What about drinks?"

"Nothing but water. There is a small well about two hours away from here." Fado watched Ephraim curiously. He looked very confident while questioning Seth and their conversation sounded professional, not too familiar. Fado was rather contented with that.

"Will it last until Bethroen?"

"Certainly, Your Highness."

"Bethroen," Fado mumbled. Ephraim and Seth seemed to just remember that he was with them and looked at him over their shoulders. "A good decision," he added at their expectant looks. He actually didn't want to say it out loud.

"Thank you, father." Ephraim looked slightly tense when he nodded at him. Fado could barely hold back his frown. He couldn't remember if Ephraim had always looked so tense when he complimented him. It seemed very strange. "Anything else of notice?"

"No, Your Highness. Our stay here has been quiet." Ephraim nodded and the tenseness in his expression slowly dissipated.

They had arrived at Ephraim's tent and Seth was just turning to them – to excuse himself, Fado guessed – as they heard a bright call; "Ephraim!" Fado turned; a young woman with dark blue hair was running towards them. Fado was sure he knew her face…

"Tana," Ephraim answered.

"Of course!" Fado exclaimed and seemingly interrupted his son. Tana startled lightly and looked at him with big eyes before turning back to Ephraim again. "You're Hayden's girl."

"King Fado," she said, still sounding a tad surprised but she seemed to have recovered herself quickly. "I'm so relieved to see that the message was true." She curtsied. Fado couldn't help but grin broadly. "It would've been horrible if it had been a lie…" Her gaze flickered over to Ephraim.

"How is my old friend?" Fado asked. "I hope Frelia wasn't hit too hard." He couldn't keep the smile on his face and so it fell. And just as Tana dropped her eyes, Fado noticed something. "How did you convince Hayden to let you join the army? I thought he would rather lose his head than let you ever join a battle." Tana bit her lower lip.

"Father, we have already talked about this," Ephraim interrupted him. "Tana is coming with us." Fado frowned at Ephraim, then at Tana.

"I didn't tell my lord father," she said and tried to look confident and defiant, but Fado didn't buy her attitude. His frown deepened. "I'm here to help my friends," Tana continued and her ears turned slightly pinkish, "and I will not go back. I want to help."

On the one hand, Fado felt the need to argue in Hayden's name because he could vividly picture how his friend was fretting at the moment. On the other hand, Fado was impressed by Tana's courage. He had witnessed Hayden's protectiveness of Tana several times before and knew the girl a bit himself and from those experience he hadn't thought that she would ever have that much backbone. But she looked so serious and determined. And Fado understood her wish to protect very well.

Tana threw a helpless look at Ephraim when Fado continued staring at her without speaking. Ephraim stepped forward. "Father, there is nothing to argue about," he said lowly. Fado tilted his head towards him.

"Hm." Fado turned back to Tana. She looked relieved – he smiled to show her that he wouldn't press the matter. Now, at least.

"Ephraim, have you already planned to send a letter to Eirika?" Tana suddenly asked and brightened considerably.

"Yes, I'll sent her one tomorrow morning."

"Ah, I should write her a few lines as well," Fado said. After all, he could still write. The thought actually elated him. _How strange that I can actually be that happy about being able to write, _he mused, but the subtle negativity couldn't bring down Fado's spirits.

"Someone will bring you writing supplies," Seth remarked and immediately afterwards bowed and excused himself.

"Father, you'll stay in the council tent until we can buy a proper one," Ephraim said suddenly, as if he had just remembered that fact. Fado was quite contented with that; he would have a table and chair there. And the tent was in the centre of the camp; he would be able to take part of everything even if only passively.

"Very well."

###

The council tent was homely. There was no other word Fado could describe it with. The sight of the simple table and stools made him sigh comfortably. There was a cot at the back of the tent with a blanket spread over it. It was all simple, but he didn't need luxuries. He only needed to feel that he was still himself. With a tiny sigh, Fado sat down and let his hand glide over the table. He could barely feel the wood through his glove so he pulled it off with his teeth. _Another thing I can do alone_, he thought with a grin. He resolved to concentrate on the things he could do instead of all the things that were out of his reach.

"Your Majesty?" came a call from outside.

"Come in."

It was Iustus. The boy bowed his head and placed the bottle of ink, quill and paper on the table. A second after that Karl entered the tent.

"Your Majesty, do you have a moment?" Fado wanted to try to write right now, but he could restrain himself. Judging by Iustus' expression, he was showing it, though.

"Yes."

"If you have no objections, Iustus will be your personal assistant. I'll be employed elsewhere so I won't be able to come to you when needed. Iustus, however, can be spared and assist you with his healing magic." Iustus lowered his head and blushed darkly.

"Of course," Fado said slowly, watching the boy closely. "He has already proven that he is dependable." Iustus' blush lightened and he threw an insecure but also happy glance at Fado. Fado grinned back. "He'll do excellent work." Karl bowed.

"Very well, Your Majesty. I'll excuse myself then." Fado only nodded to him and the old knight left.

"Do you need my service at the moment?" Iustus asked, his voice a bit higher than normally. From the excitement, Fado guessed. He shook his head. "Then, may I go back to the infirmary? The leader of the healers wants to test my magic. Maybe they'll teach me something new," Iustus added with shining eyes. Fado had to suppress a grin and only nodded again.

"I'll let you call when I need you." Grinning, Iustus bowed low and sped out of the tent. Fado chuckled and devoted himself to quill and paper.

It took a while until he found a position in which he could write comfortably. Seth seemed to have found a quill which was made for a left-hander like himself, so at least that was no great problem. But he had no free hand to hold the paper securely in place. In the end, he used a few of the things lying around in the council tent to weigh the elusive paper down.

When he finally was ready, he couldn't find the right words. Or rather, he had so many things to say that he didn't know where to start. Staring down at the yellowish paper, Fado contemplated. On the one hand, he wanted to tell Hayden everything. They had been close friends since childhood. But somehow he didn't manage to let his doubts and fear manifest themselves on the paper. He was trying to fight them and overcome them. Writing them down would make them too real. They would stare back at him. Shaking his head slowly, he put the quill down. He rubbed his eyes and mouth, staring off into nothingness.

Then, a flash of genius hit him and he picked up the quill and just wrote what came to mind. In the end, the paper was completely covered with letters. And Fado still felt like he had things left to say, but they would have to wait for another day. Sighing deeply – the writing had tired him surprisingly much – he stretched his arm over his head and looked towards the tent entrance. The light had turned darker; slowly, a smile crept on his face. Fado pushed himself up and decided to get rid of his tiredness. He would walk through the camp and take in all the atmosphere and energy. All would be good now, that much was clear to him.


	5. Chapter 5

God, I love writing this. Fado is still at a low but towards the end of the next chapter things will change slowly. Well, at least in some regard. They're getting closer and closer to Grado, after all.

Also, I wondered if anybody would want chapter summaries here in the notes. I have to write them anyway for my writing journal. Just tell me.

This chapter will deal a bit more with Fado's depression so heads up for that.

* * *

_He had hoped with all his being that this wouldn't happen. That he would continue to be strong. But then, everybody had their weaknesses. He just couldn't accept any at the moment._

Fado was pleasantly surprised that only the day of departure was dominated by his struggles for a little dignity. The day before he had spent watching the on-goings of the army, visiting Linnéa – she had been put with the other amateur fighters – and observing Ephraim during meetings. He was proud of how Ephraim was handling everything, even if he often wanted to interrupt and correct something. At the end of the day his tongue was a bit sore from biting it so often.

The good first day had deceived him; Fado had expected far less opposition when it came to his mode of transportation.

"Please, Your Majesty."

"No," Fado snapped. Karl was present as Iustus helped Fado into his clothes. Fado glared at the old knight during the whole procedure. "It was no problem to ride to the camp, wasn't it? And today we're travelling even slower. Why is that a problem!?" He couldn't keep his temper from flaring up; not that Karl could say anything that would cool him down apart from 'whatever you wish'.

"But the journey will be longer than two days ago," said Karl, speaking low and with that nasty emphasis with which one would talk to a child. Fado snatched the end of his belt from Iustus' hand and pulled it painfully tight, buckling it. "It will be much more strenuous. It is for your own safety."

"Karl," Fado's voice was calm but dangerously shaking, "I think it would be wise if you cease speaking now." Karl lowered his head. A tiny, unoccupied corner of Fado's mind noticed how Iustus' hands were trembling as he held out Fado's jacket.

Karl stayed silent for only less than a minute. "My King, we are only concerned for your health."

"'We'?"

"Prince Ephraim, General Seth and I." Fado closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His blood started to boil in his veins and shot upwards into his head. _Of course, I'm a weak invalid after all. Of course I cannot ride for a few hours._ The thought coursed through his head, bouncing off his skull, and the doubt that was always residing in the back of his mind crawled out of its hiding place; the defensive sarcasm immediately turned into a low, piercing whispering that couldn't be drowned out. Fado's hand was trembling as he made a grab for his glove.

"So you have already decided that I will not be given my own mount?"

There was a painful pause before Karl answered. "Yes, Your Majesty, but–"

"Alright." Fado whirled around, pocketing his glove, and strode past the concerned looking Karl. Fado, however, didn't stoop to honour him with even a glance. He was barely out of the tent when he heard footsteps following him. His blood was shooting into his cheeks and he could just barely hold back a nasty reprimand. He was glad that he did because it wasn't Karl but Iustus. The boy was walking a few steps behind him with a lowered head.

"Have you packed your things?" Fado asked harshly.

"N-no."

"Where's your tent?"

"S-sir?" Iustus asked confused. Fado took a deep breath through his nose.

"Take me to your tent." Iustus didn't say anything about that but just took over the lead. Fado was glad to follow as that gave him the freedom to not pay attention on where he was walking; he needed time to process what he just heard.

He had been overly sensitive; in the past he would've never been so openly nasty. Just as angry, definitely, but he would've never shown it that strongly. On the other hand, he reasoned, it was an incredible insult. Karl should've known how he would react to this proposal and immediately rejected it. He knew of his doubts and fears; he had witnessed him at his lowest in the fort.

They arrived at Iustus' tent but Fado barely noticed. The boy looked at him warily, but Fado didn't mind him and rather turned away, looking around and gritting his teeth. After a strained moment of silence, Iustus mumbled that he would quickly pack and then get his tent mates. Fado nodded absentmindedly and stepped away so that he wouldn't be bothered by the dismantling of the tent. Then he resumed his reflections.

Karl had disappointed him; despite him being his friend, he actually treated him like a petulant child. That was the thing that insult Fado the most. How Karl would act so unthinkingly and treat his wish and his situation so… lightly. As if he were a child crying about dying when he had just scraped his knee. Fado gritted his teeth and made to cross his arms until he noticed that that was no longer possible. With a throbbing pain in his chest, he stuck his hand in his belt. _That is how they see me,_ he thought as he stared off, _that is what I am. An invalid._ Coldness crept up his spine; his forehead crunched up and his eyes were burning. Fado took a shaky breath. An ugly, painful feeling washed over him and all anger disintegrated until it was nothing more but a memory.

Suddenly he was ripped from his thoughts by a loud noise; the tent had collapsed and three boys were looking at him with either fear or embarrassment. Iustus had come back and with him two boys; they were not that much older than Iustus. Fado threw them a lopsided smile that trembled dangerously.

"You're not that late." One of the boys, a tall, freckled redhead, smiled broadly. The other two were still embarrassed and hastily gathered the poles. Fado watched them sorting the supports, folding the tent cloth and falling over their own feet. Their show was oddly distracting; the dark mass of doubt and fear was still there – he felt it very strongly – but he could force it out for now.

Soon Iustus stood in front of him and bowed. "I'm sorry that it took so long. We didn't want to make you wait."

"Don't worry," Fado said with a smile and shake of his head. The other two boys bowed to him and then ran off with the neatly packed tent. Iustus stared to the ground and waited. Fado sighed through his nose and looked around. Most tents were already stowed in the wagons; several metres away he saw the gathering army. They were assuming their marching formation already. "Let's go," Fado murmured. Without waiting for an affirmation from Iustus, Fado marched towards the head of the formation, towards the flags of Frelia and Renais.

When he saw Ephraim and Seth standing there, holding the reins of their horses, he suddenly knew what to do. As if a strong wind had suddenly pushed away the dark clouds in his head, his mind cleared and focused. Involuntarily, his stance changed and his back was straighter and his shoulders squared. Even a grin forced its way onto his face.

Soon Ephraim noticed him and greeted him with a nod and small smile. Seth followed Ephraim's gaze and immediately bowed to Fado.

"Good morning, Father."

"Good morning, Ephraim. Seth."

"Has Sir Karl already talked to you?" Seth asked with a tiny crease between his eyebrows. Fado grinned broadly, which caused the knight to slightly raise his eyebrows. Ephraim just looked at him with light astonishment. Fado, however, didn't answer the obvious question in their eyes and rather looked around. He let his gaze wander over the chatting soldiers behind them, their impatient horses, over Iustus, who was watching him nervously. After a minute or so he saw Karl walking towards them. He was bringing his stallion with him.

Karl's expression was even more worried than before and he watched Fado closely as he bowed to him.

"Are we ready?" Ephraim asked.

"Yes, Sire. We only need to give the signal," Seth answered.

"Very well. Father–"

"What is it?" Fado interrupted him, smiling. Ephraim was a tad irritated.

"Your Majesty, please, sit up," Karl said with a deep bow and gestured to his horse.

"No. I intend to walk." Judging from his twitch, Karl could just keep himself from whipping up his head.

"Father, what are you talking about?"

"I am not trusted with a horse yet," Fado said slowly, turning away from Karl and towards Ephraim and Seth. They looked at him blankly. "Therefore, I'll walk. I hope you think that I'm still able to use my legs." Fado had tried to keep any hostility from his voice, but he wasn't sure he had managed it.

"Your Majesty," Seth started, looking Fado directly in the eye, "we plan to at least arrive at Dulon today. That's too many miles for walking."

"A good part of this army is walking," Fado retorted. Seth's lips pressed together for a second. Fado just knew that he kept himself from adding: "Too much for you." Fado took a deep breath; he couldn't use his temper now. "No, Seth. I'll walk. And now give the sign. If you truly want to arrive at Dulon today, then we have to leave now." Fado then turned away from them to speak to Iustus. "You may go to your mates."

"Thank you," Iustus mumbled and bowed. He seemed happy to be able to leave.

###

There had been no more arguments and so when the army started to move, he was walking at the very head next to Seth, Ephraim and other officers. He felt quite smug about walking between the horses; he knew he was being watched and he was sure that they were impressed by him.

The positiveness, though, didn't stay long; quickly, Fado's legs grew heavy. Secretively, Fado straightened and took deeper breaths. His eyes flickered up to the sun. It didn't look to him like it had moved at all. He swallowed. He tried to calm his mind with excuses; they were walking with the sun so that it only seemed like no time had passed or that he had never been good at reading the time with the help of the sun – but those were obvious lies and he knew it.

But it didn't help. Very soon Fado rather trained his eyes on the path in front of him. Now that his senses were sharpened, though, he seemed to feel every ounce of strength that left his body. His heartbeat accelerated, but Fado wasn't sure if it was due to the exertion or because he was so obsessively watching himself.

_I managed to walk down the Borgo Mountains by myself_, Fado argued loudly in his mind as his leg muscles started to stiffen and pinch. _This is not much different and easier as well._

His throat dried up; a cold shudder ran down his back – a wave of heat followed on its footsteps. His hand was trembling. _No, you didn't._ An invisible fist pressed inwardly against his throat; he tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and sticky. Forbidden images crept up in his mind: Forde taking his arm, Linnéa catching a near fall, Karl and the many small pauses, him supporting himself on _Iustus_...

_You're a liar. _Cold sweat gathered on Fado's brow. Suddenly all fell down on him and drowned his mind; he didn't manage anything on his own. Everybody had to help him, even the young boy, who couldn't ride. He was deceiving himself and uselessly trying to hope. His chest was heaving and his eyes burning. Fado pressed his mouth shut; he felt sick. His hands were shaking. His body wanted to break down.

_I'm weak, I'm useless. I'm just an idiot trying to act like myself but I can't. I can never be myself again. I'm just a cripple. A weak, useless cripple who needs supervision and help with everything. I'm just a burden._

Fado only saw the grass and the tips of his boots. The short green wavered and blurred. His shoes lost their outlines. He didn't want anymore. He couldn't continue anymore. It would do no good anyway. Why was he even trying? Nobody thought that he could do it anyway.

His breathing was short and choppy. His mind whirled around and his consciousness seemed to slip–

"Your Majesty?" Fado's head snapped upwards, he sucked in a surprised gulp of air which almost got stuck in his throat and disorientated he looked for the person who had saved him. It was Seth. "Are you not feeling well?" Fado blinked slowly. Seth had dismounted and was walking next to him; his black mare was plodding relaxed after him. The young general had leaned close and was speaking lowly. "You're looking tired, Your Majesty."

Fado looked forwards again and licked his lips. His legs felt like jelly and he couldn't imagine that he was not looking as horrible as he was feeling.

"Please, Your Majesty," Seth whispered urgently and stepped closer. "You're as white as a sheet." Fado looked over his shoulder, past Seth, at the sun. _Not even an hour. I didn't even keep up for an hour._ Seth followed his gaze. "Your Majesty, please do me this favour. You have already far surpassed Prince Ephraim's and my expectation." Fado's gaze shifted to Seth's. He stared; he was sure that this was a lie – _how could it not be a lie?_ "Please." But Seth was looking earnestly concerned…

It didn't matter anymore if it was a lie. Fado knew he would break down now if he didn't mount and that would be far more embarrassing. He looked forward again before nodding. Seth sighed relieved and stepped out of the body of the army; Fado followed him reluctantly. Seth moved quickly so that Fado was sitting in the saddle in a matter of minutes. Fado couldn't look at Ephraim or the officers when they rejoined them. No matter what they were thinking, Fado was ashamed.

_I'm weak._

###

Three loud calls of a trumpet were the sign for the army to stop and make camp. The messenger was galloping down and up the army so that everybody could sigh in relief.

Fado had remained silent for the rest of the journey; he had kept away from the others and just stared ahead with an empty gaze. He needed to force every tiny ounce of his mind to stop – to stop demeaning himself, to hurt himself, to insult himself and to bring himself down. Seth had been walking next to him the whole time. At the beginning Fado had felt hurt by some of the officers asking Seth if he wanted one of their horses or if they should organize one for him. Seth had rejected their proposals and rather stayed close to Fado. That had sent dark red shame into his cheeks which was so much more humiliating because it stuck out from his white face. All of them had seen it.

Fado watched the army dissipating until most of the tents were unloaded and groups of tent mates had spread around. The leading group was slowly starting to scatter as well as the officers went to check on their units. Fado noticed that Seth was walking towards him.

"Your tent will be erected in a moment, Your Majesty." Fado thought Seth sounded very careful and concerned. His heart beat sped up again and his body heated up. _It's appropriate. I can't take care of myself. I proved it today._ Fado didn't answer; instead he tried to dismount carefully. His arm trembled strongly and he feared that his legs couldn't keep him upright. The thought to ask for assistance came too late – he was already falling. Panic shot into his head; he couldn't even prepare himself for pain.

A pair of hands grabbed him tightly under his arm and held his upper body. His feet hit the ground hard. After a second of breathless fright, Fado struggled to get to his feet. Seth pushed him up and towards the horse. Fado grabbed the mare's mane to steady himself. He was breathing hard and shallow. Seth was still holding him for a second before he stepped back. "I'll tell the men to speed up. I'll be back in a moment." Fado closed his eyes and nodded. He didn't want to see the look on Seth's face. It could only be disappointment and disgust, he was sure of that. There was no other way.

He heard Seth walking away. Fado sighed relieved when he couldn't distinguish him from all the other people around him and leaned his head against the mare's neck. He needed to calm his breathing; then the shaking and sweating would surely stop as well. And then he would walk to his tent and immediately go to sleep. He would feel better tomorrow. It was just because he was so weak now; this was not his normal condition. _I can be stronger than this, can't I?_ Fado couldn't find an answer for that, though. His mind and heart started to empty themselves again…

"My King?" A shocked voice startled Fado. His heartbeat shot up again and panic accompanied it. "Please, Fado, talk to me. Are you ill?" Suddenly a hand appeared in his field of vision.

"Karl." He didn't know what to say. Karl placed his hand between Fado's shoulder blades. Only with force, Fado could bring himself to look at the old knight. Karl seemed to have aged horribly; he looked like a man just seconds from the end of his life. His face was rutted worse than any field could be. His gaze was hurried and worried. Fado almost felt bad for making his friend so concerned.

"Shall I get you something? Water, a chair, a healer?" Karl was looking around hastily.

"No." Fado's voice was weak. "I just want to sleep."

"Are you sure?" Fado closed his eyes, furrowing his brow. _Not again._ He didn't have the power to argue; he didn't want to argue. "I'm sorry." That surprised Fado and he felt guilty. "I won't. I'll just stay here with you." Fado nodded and then rested his head against the horse's neck again. Karl seemed to accept that and just waited with him, keeping his hand on Fado's back the whole time.

It calmed Fado a bit, actually. At first it was uncomfortable but soon he felt safer. As if it were a wall rather than a single hand. While the fact that the concern for him was justified pained him, he also felt happy that he was not alone right now. He needed to apologize to Karl later.

"Everything is ready." Seth had come back. Karl immediately took Fado's arm and held him close. He quickly told Seth that he would take Fado to the tent and when Seth offered to assist him, he declined.

"King Fado and I will manage on our own." Fado's heart beat quickly again, but it felt so much different than earlier. He could even smile at his friend.

A few minutes later he was lying on his cot and fell asleep without eating or undressing.

###

Fado was lying on his cot, staring towards the tent flap. It had been opened slightly when Iustus had thrown in a glance. But Fado had acted as if he was still sleeping; he didn't want to have company yet. He just wanted to be alone.

He felt every tiny inch of his body; each and every one of his muscles were throbbing with pain, even those he didn't use yesterday. But the worst was his mind. The new morning hadn't brought a fresh breeze that could clean out the dark clouds. The opposite happened; his mind was much harder on himself today.

Fado found no energy to fight it.

_What is more undignified; walking and almost breaking down after half an hour or riding with Karl?_ Fado blinked quickly. _Yes, you made a great decision. They were surely impressed of your 'strength'. They saw no difference between today and your prime. Don't you see it's useless?_ _Why fight? Why struggle? They will always see what you are: a weak cripple._ Fado shifted, pressing his face against the thin pillow. His nose started running. _This is all meaningless. Just resign._ The first tear travelled down over his nose and fell onto the pillow.

"Dammit," he hissed and pressed his eyes close. But that one tear had already fallen and he couldn't take it back. _And now you're crying over the truth. Can you see that it is true now?_ "No," Fado whispered. "No…" But his mind continued to talk, to reprimand, to humiliate.

It seemed like an eternity passed until someone called for him. Fado quickly closed his eyes again and hoped that the person wouldn't look too closely at him. The tent cloth moved. Footsteps were coming closer.

"My King?" It was Karl. Fado could already give up; there was no way that Karl wouldn't notice that he was awake. Fado looked up carefully. Karl had already knelt down next to him and looked so concerned again. Blinking, he noticed that his eyes were still swimming with water. He averted his gaze and stared at the tent wall. "Do you want to sit up and eat something?" Karl's voice sounded unusually low and Fado didn't like it. It took a while until Fado could decide to affirm it.

Karl waited and watched as Fado pushed himself up; when he was sitting upright, Karl walked back to the tent opening, leaned out and talked lowly with somebody. When he stepped in again, he held a steaming bowl and put it on the lone chair. Then he sat next to Fado on the cot.

"How are you feeling today?" Fado hesitated; how much should he tell him? He had proven himself unworthy already; he didn't take Fado's situation serious enough. What could he tell him?

"Alright," Fado answered. His voice sounded strangely slurred. Karl kept silent and just stared. Fado pressed his eyes close; Karl's silence tickled his temper. He didn't seem to have any control over it at the moment. "Out with it!" His heart beat loudly against his ears.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but… may I speak freely?" For once Fado hesitated. Did he truly want to know how he looked on the outside? He stared down at his feet. He nodded sharply.

"Your eyes are reddened and you're still very white. Your movements are sluggish. To make it short; you're looking horrible." Fado could find nothing funny in his state so he stayed silent. Suddenly he felt Karl's hand on his back. "I know that I was never your confidant like the late General Louis was, but would you want to try to confide in me?"

Fado swallowed hard and thought about it. For minutes he discussed it with his doubt and he barely noticed that time was passing. Eventually he was interrupted by Karl. "Your Majesty, there is no need to hurry." Karl squeezed his shoulder lightly and stood up. "I'll immediately come if you wish to talk." He smiled down at Fado. "There is something I need to do before we depart." He bowed. "Please eat your breakfast."

Fado stared after him and then at the tent opening after he had left. He couldn't believe it; he couldn't believe how Karl could just leave him so. He could _see_ in what kind of state he was and Karl knew that this was a state that was highly atypical for Fado. How could he be so callous? _He's leaving you because you're so pathetic and weak. You're a nuisance, remember?_ Fado exhaled shakily, shutting his eyes close. He had no energy to eat. So he rather laid back down and pressed his face into the pillow.

Sometime later, Karl came back. Fado didn't deign to look at him. He had just managed to shut his mind up and wanted to use any guilt-free second he could get. "Your Majesty, I have a surprise for you." Fado opened one eye; Karl had knelt next to him again. The bastard was smiling.

"What is it?" Fado asked tiredly.

"A letter has come today," Karl explained and pulled a small paper from his tunic, "with an express messenger. I've heard she had to fly through the night." Karl turned the letter to show Fado the seal. The second Fado saw the beautiful head of a pegasus in the dark red, he froze and his eyes widened. His hand shot forward. He couldn't believe that the paper was real and clutched it a bit too tightly; the letter crumbled up even more as he pushed himself up. "I'll leave you now," Karl said but Fado didn't really hear him. He just shook his hair out of his face and opened the seal with his teeth.

"Dearest Friend,

is this true and not an evil game? But how can this not be your handwriting?! I have never seen a handwriting so unique and unmistakable as yours. I can still not put my relief and happiness into words. That you should still be alive and well! I wish I could hasten to your side and see for myself that you are alive. I can still barely believe that this is not a dream."

Fado had to stop and take several deep breaths. "Yes, I wish you were here, too, Hayden," he whispered, "I could talk with you." He continued.

"We had already tried to accept that you were gone. But without seeing your body, it had all felt too unreal. And now we have the proof that it was never true. I would have scolded my spies if I didn't know that they did their best to return alive. We had so little information about the fall of the capital that it was a wonder we heard about your supposed death. Never was I so glad that my spies were erring."

Fado had to stop again; his eyes were burning. He suddenly felt reminded of so many moments in his youth; all his visits of Frelia and the happiness there… Shaking his head to clear his eyes, he continued.

"I cannot write too much now, dearest friend, as I want to send this letter as quickly as possible. I will, of course, write a longer letter immediately after this one. But I had to express my gratitude and happiness for your survival now. I wish you would come and see us and not travel with Ephraim, but I know you. You couldn't leave a conflict even if it might cost your life. I might curse your thick head and iron will, but I trust that you will act smartly and cautiously for once."

The "for once" was struck through and despite the veil of tears clouding Fado's eyes, he smiled.

"I impatiently wait for another letter from you.

Your Worrying and Happy Friend,

Hayden."

Fado chuckled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He just made to read the letter again as he saw the short addition at the end.

"Dearest Friend,

Aileen has just come in and scolded me for not including her gratitude and happiness. Both of us are elated and impatient about hearing from you again."

Fado sniffed and laughed again, pressing the letter against his forehead. He didn't know why he was laughing, but he was. He was laughing and crying and he couldn't stop. Leaning forwards, he just let go. The laughter hurt his muscles, but they couldn't stop it. They could only wait until Fado was too tired to laugh.

His muscle rejoiced when he, just smiling giddily, laid back onto the cot. He held the letter high above his head. What in this letter had dispelled his bad mood, he did not know. He was just glad that it did. With relish, he closed his eyes, rested his hand on his chest and let his mind wander to the happy places the letter had brought up. His first meeting with Hayden came first; his impatience and giddiness at meeting this other prince. His curiosity when he saw the rather reserved grey-haired princeling. His happiness when Hayden opened up to him and laughed with him for the first time (which was not surprising; shooting a deer at age nine with no help whatsoever was thrilling).

"Your Majesty?" Fado hadn't heard Karl enter. The images in his mind dissolved and Fado turned his head to Karl. The old knight didn't look as worried anymore. "Do you want to eat now?" Fado's gaze flickered to the bowl on the chair; it was no longer steaming.

"Yes." He pushed himself to his feet.

"I have told Iustus that I would take care of you today," Karl said as Fado ran his hand through his unruly hair; all that lying around hadn't done it any good.

"Thank you." Fado stood up – his sense of balance was a bit off in the first seconds. "Enough people have seen me in this state already." Karl avoided his gaze, Fado noticed.

"Your Majesty, may I correct the sit of your clothing?" Fado nodded. Now that he was standing, he felt how his tunic was stretching uncomfortably over his back. Karl made to tug at the shirt. Fado, meanwhile, looked at his letter again.

"Karl…"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"I just remembered something my father said to me when I was about fourteen."

"Yes?" Karl asked confused from behind Fado. Fado held the letter on eye level so that Karl could see it over his shoulder.

"We had a fight over something I did and eventually he said that he encouraged my friendship to Hayden in the hopes that I would learn moderation and caution from him." Karl chortled. Fado himself smiled lopsidedly. "I don't think I ever did." Karl walked back into his field of vision and picked up the bowl with breakfast; his expression was a tad lighter. "But I learned something else," Fado continued. "I learned to look at myself and recognize my mistakes. And to accept and right them."

"My King," Karl quickly said, "you don't have to apologize. It was my fault that –" Fado shook his head, smiling.

"No, no, I was acting like a fool. I was…," he licked his lips nervously, "desperate to show that I'm not helpless." He threw a quick glance at Karl; the old knight looked guilty. "But in the end my actions humiliated myself more than anything else."

Karl opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he shook his head. "Your Majesty, your actions were rash and inconsiderate, but you have also shown me and certainly General Seth and Prince Ephraim that you are not to be patronized. If you allow, Your Majesty," – here he bowed reverently – "then from now on we will make decisions together. Your recklessness and my caution might complement each other."

Fado couldn't but break out in laughter. "That seems to be a sound plan." Fado took the bowl and downed the food so quickly that he barely tasted it.

"Very good. Then we should go now as there are several soldiers outside waiting for you to leave so that they can take down the tent." Fado nodded and together they left the tent.

Throwing a look around, Fado noticed that most of the camp was already taken down and stowed away. He felt too good to be embarrassed for his tardiness, though. Karl led him straight to the head of the army. Fado's heart beat quicker and quicker when he saw Iustus standing amongst the officers and holding the reins of two horses; Karl's dark brown stallion and a beige horse with a white star on its forehead. Fado threw an enquiring glance at Karl. But Karl didn't return the look and just stared forwards. Fado felt inappropriately giddy.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Iustus said and bowed awkwardly – the stallion was trying to get away from him and pulling him off his feet.

"My King, this is Leonora," Karl said and gestured to the beige mare. "She is a sweet and calm lady." Fado wrinkled his nose.

"To counter my temper?"

"Of course," Karl replied seriously with a nod, "as far as I remember all of your mounts had been remarkably peaceful."

"I know, I know." Fado chuckled and reached out for the mare. She looked up, sniffed at his hand and let him caress her nose and head. She quickly lost interest in him and resumed eating.

"Your Majesty." Fado turned. Seth had come over to them. "I see you have already met Leonora." He patted the mare's neck. "She has served as a carrier these last days. Her owner died at Renvall. She will hopefully serve you well."

"I'm sure she will," Fado said, his voice sounding strangely quietly to him. Seth bowed his head. As Fado continued to pet the horse, he noticed a movement behind him – a silent conversation between the two knights.

"Your Majesty," Karl said, sounding a tad hesitant, "I'm sure you're aware that we still have to be careful?" Fado sighed. "If you allow, I will ride close to you so that I can assist you should anything happen." Fado had expected something like that and it didn't bother him. No, he could ride alone; there was no one who was holding his reins and that was the most important thing for him. Company was actually welcome.

"Very good," he said aloud and turned, smiling. Karl seemed relieved.

"Then please ready yourself," Seth said. "We'll depart shortly." He nodded to them and left to confer with some of the commanders.

Fado noticed that his legs were still lightly protesting when he mounted the mare with the help of Karl – but overall his muscles had calmed down. That and he had long trained to have a high tolerance of pain. A strong feeling of comfort spread through Fado's body as he felt the mare shift between his legs. Powerful muscles were at work and _he_ had the command of them. His breast swelled with confidence. That was what Fado needed; independence.

Fado picked up the reins. "Come on," he said to Karl, "hurry up. We can't stay around the whole day." Karl threw him an incredulous look as he was mounting his own horse. Fado nudged his mare. He couldn't wait to move!

###

His mother had often told Fado that his 'whole being was glowing and infecting everybody around him' when he was deeply happy. And during the ride, Fado had the feeling that she was quite right. He noticed that Karl in particularly was extraordinarily relaxed.

The journey was long and despite his best efforts Fado grew tired before they reached their next place to camp. It was still better than anything else and so he could keep the dark thoughts at bay. When they had finally stopped moving, though, an uncomfortable feeling crept up his back. During the ordered mess of erecting the camp, Fado felt as if he was being watched. As if they were waiting for him to fall or break down.

Swallowing hard, he caressed his mare's neck and whispered his thanks into her ear. His eyes darted around but he could catch nobody's gaze. _Maybe I'm imagining it. Why would they want to watch me?_ He gave the reins to Iustus, who led the good horse away to rub her down. Fado looked around – there really was no one looking at him. Shaking his head, he walked away.

_Am I going mad?_ he wondered as he walked towards his tent. _Why now and not earlier?_ But that strange feeling in his gut stayed and emitted uneasiness. When he passed a chatting group of soldiers, his stomach suddenly tightened. Their voices rang in his ears and his heart joined in with a hasty drumming. Fado almost faltered but he just so managed to force his feet to continue. He hastened his steps and was soon out of hearing range. _Why?_ He threw a look over his shoulder. The soldiers were laughing now. Heat shot into Fado's cheeks.

_No!_ He whipped his head forwards again. _They are not talking about me. Why would they?_ He quickened his steps again and was almost running by now. _Besides, that happened yesterday. Why would they talk about it still today?_ His mouth dried out again.

_Because you were ridiculous._ There was this dark thinking again. The one that loved to pain him. Fado took a deep breath. He needed to get rid of this thinking. _Because they think you're hilarious with your antics. It's entertaining to watch you. And they _all_ know._

Fado shook his head. He forced his mind to blank. For a few beautiful seconds, his mind stayed white. But as soon as a soldier disturbed him by greeting him, the dark thoughts washed over him again. _He's laughing at you._ Fado blinked; the young soldier in front of his was looking serious and his gaze was trained on Fado's forehead. _He can't look at you because then he would start laughing._

"Ridiculous," Fado whispered to himself.

"Pardon, Your Majesty?" the soldier asked confused.

"Nothing," Fado quickly replied with a polite smile. "Dismissed." Fado pushed past the soldier before he could reply. He just needed to get away from that man; he needed to get away from all of them.

Soon Fado noticed that he had reached the border of the camp. _Great_, he thought with a snort, _now I _truly_ made myself ridiculous._ But he still used the opportunity to slowly stroll around the camp to clear his thoughts. Maybe a bit of walking could calm him and straighten his thoughts.

"I need to control this," he said firmly. _I cannot let me bring myself down._ He swallowed hard; but how was he supposed to do that? The power of his negative thoughts seemed so infinite and great…

Suddenly a familiar laughing ripped his attention away. Between two tents he could see a camp fire and several people sitting around it. He didn't know most of them, but two immediately jumped out; Linnéa and Lady Raphaela – Linnéa was the one laughing heartily. Fado stopped and for a moment yearned for such lightness. Unrestrained laughing sounded so compelling.

Unexpectedly, Linnéa turned her head and their gazes met. She smiled broadly and stood up. Out of habit, he returned the smile and walked over. "King Fado," she called happily, "good to see you." He nodded to her as all the other soldiers suddenly sobered and jumped to their feet. Only Lady Raphaela stood up gracefully and curtsied.

"At ease," Fado told them and walked around the circle to Linnéa. Hesitantly, the soldiers sat down and continued their conversations lowly. Linnéa shook his hand and offered him a seat on the log next to her. To his own surprise, Fado didn't hesitate and sat. Raphaela scooted over so that he had enough space.

"What are you doing here?" Linnéa asked and plopped a piece of meat into her mouth. "Aren't you eating with the elite?"

"Yes," Fado answered and barely noticed how quickly he was relaxing, "but a little walk before supper seemed very appealing." Easily a smile appeared onto his face.

"Poor Iustus." Linnéa laughed. "Now he's surely running around like a headless chicken looking for you."

"Possibly." He felt a tad embarrassed.

"Oh, it will do him no harm," Linnéa said and waved off his embarrassment. "He would never complain. He is far too good-natured to be angry." Fado could only nod in affirmation.

He quickly got lost in a friendly conversation with Linnéa; he barely noticed how the soldiers around him slowly lost their anxiety and after a while they were almost conversing as easily as they had before Fado had disturbed them. After another while, shortly after Fado's stomach had made itself noticeable, he and Linnéa were interrupted by a shy "Uhm". They both turned.

A red-faced Iustus was standing behind them, a plate in hand. "Your Majesty, your food." He held the plate out to Fado.

"Thank you, Iustus." A thick slab of meat greeted Fado; someone had already cut it up.

"And here's your fork." After Fado had accepted that as well, Iustus turned to walk away.

"Wait," Linnéa called. "Drink something first." She offered him her mug with watered-down beer. He took several deep gulps.

"Thank you," he said, this time smiling, and then sped away.

Fado placed the plate on his knees and started wolfing down the savoury meat and potatoes. Linnéa watched him a few seconds and then started talking about her family. Fado listened as she told him of her daughter's first birthday or her husband's accident with the butcher knife which had almost killed him. It was obvious that she didn't expect him to answer and enjoyed talking about her loved ones. Only after he had eaten up, did she change the topic.

"You're looking better today," she said. Her voice was far more quiet than just a minute ago. Fado swallowed the last bit of meat and put the plate on the ground.

"I do not understand?" he returned with a painfully fake smile. The question had come unexpectedly and made his heart race.

"You didn't look good yesterday." Linnéa folded her hands and leaned closer, lowering her voice even more. "I saw you standing by a black horse with Karl. I almost wanted to come over but our commander is very strict." She scooted a bit closer to him. "I was very worried about you."

There was this cursed lump again in his throat. He threw a quick look at Linnéa; her forehead was wrinkled with concern. Fado sighed through his nose.

"I'm well," he said as firmly as he could. He imagined that his voice did not tremble at the memory. Linnéa rested a hand on his knee and squeezed it lightly.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Fado took another deep breath, staring down at his feet. "I assume the whole army knows it then."

"Knows what?"

"Knows that I broke down," Fado hissed. Linnéa startled and pulled away her hand. He immediately regretted his hostility, but could do nothing against it. Fado bit his lower lip.

"Sure they do." Her words punched him in the stomach. Then he was not imagining things… "Are you that conceited that you think they do nothing but talk about you?" Something in Fado froze. He blinked slowly and looked at Linnéa. Her expression was incredulous. Fado opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. "Yes, some of us heard about it," she continued and her face turned sour, "and some of us talked about it. But after a few sentences everything was said and they," – she jerked her head towards the rest of the small group – "rather talked about important things like their families or lovers. They do not care. And those who do would've gossiped anyway." Linnéa turned away and stared into the fire.

Completely dumbfounded, Fado followed her example. A thick silence hung between them until Fado could find his words again.

"If you were raised with the mindset that all of your actions are being watched and judged, you would think so as well." His voice was weak in the beginning, but it grew. When the last word had fallen from his lips, he could even look sidewards at Linnéa. She had raised her eyebrows at him. He smiled lopsidedly.

Suddenly she chuckled. "Then I'm glad that I'm a farmer's daughter and not a princess." Fado's mouth immediately curved up into a grin. "I only had to fear that the neighbours would badmouth my festival dress."

"You better be." Fado sat up straighter – the oppressive air had kept him from sitting correctly, it seemed. "You wouldn't believe what some people find appalling."

"And I'd rather you not tell me so that I remain innocent and naïve." They laughed together and after calming down again, Fado noticed that the other soldiers had thrown them curious glances. This attention, though, didn't bother him anymore. As if a spell had been lifted.

"But I still like being king," he said, speaking lowly again. Linnéa regarded him with curiosity. "I like being able to truly change things. As king I have the power to change Renais and make it a better place to live." Linnéa nodded and then rested her head on one hand.

"I can understand that."

Fado opened his mouth to continue; it was surprisingly easy to talk with Linnéa. But… he revealed much more of himself that he wanted. It was not that he was a close-lipped person, but he still barely knew Linnéa. He shut his mouth – it was too early to talk more.

Linnéa didn't seem to notice his indecision. She bent down to pick up a metal cup; it had been standing close to the camp fire to keep it warm. Blowing away the steam, she took a sip. "Delicious." She winked at Fado. "A herbal tea," she explained. "Iustus is really good with those plants. He found them while looking for healing herbs with his new friend. A healer girl. He's a sweetie." She inhaled the strong aroma of the tea. "Do you want to taste it?"

"Yes." Fado eagerly took the cup. "I love a good tea." He first sniffed at the dark liquid – a bit sweet and woody – and then took a sip. At first a gentle sweetness tickled his tongue, which soon turned into a pleasant bitterness. "Excellent," he said when he returned the tea to Linnéa. She just nodded.

Sighing through his nose, Fado looked up; the sky had turned quite dark already and his body made itself noticeable again. He was incredibly tired. "Very well." He slowly stood up – Linnéa followed him up and shook his hand. "Good night."

"Good night, King Fado."

He waved at Raphaela and the rest of the soldier group but didn't wait to see their response. Walking stiffly through the camp, he thought about tomorrow. Around midday they would arrive in Bethroen. Messengers had already reported that Gradian troupes were guarding the port town. There would be blood and death. He sighed through his nose. It made him nervous that he couldn't participate in the battle; he needed to completely rely on other people's protection. Especially now that was more than unpleasant.

_I'll have to deal with that now…and for the rest of my life._


	6. Chapter 6

This is a surprisingly short chapter. I could've put the next few scenes until they leave with the ship in here as well, but then it would've been far more than 15 pages and that's just too long. Oh well. At least it will soon get better for Fado. Alright, only a bit for now.

**Summary**: Fado does not just take part in the battle of Bethroen but also has to fight with himself.

* * *

_Fado had only good memories of the port town, but it was hard to hold onto them now. Not because of the death tainting the streets, but because he got to know a side of himself that he never thought he had._

Bethroen was a humble port town situated at a spit; the wild Gradian Sea had ground the shore smooth and slick over several hundred years which had only benefited the town by making it easily accessible. Though it was the most important connection between Western and Eastern Grado, the Goddess of Luck hadn't blessed this town. Barely any wares were being exported from the West and for several decades the trade with Frelia had been half-dead. The animosity between the former Emperor and the former King of Frelia had stunted the town's growth considerably and its recovery was progressing slowly.

Still, Fado remembered Bethroen as a happy town with many pubs, gambling houses and rowdy fights. When he was too young to participate in any of those activities, he had always imagined the town as pure freedom and dreamt often about sneaking away and living a life full of debauchery there. When he then had reached the appropriate age, he already knew that these dreams had been silly – which of course didn't keep him from enjoying the freedoms he could get.

As he was now looking down at the town, the streets were empty. There were no market stalls in the streets – no men and women selling fresh fish or sponges or salt. The port was lifeless and only a handful of warships were patrolling the town.

"The Gradian soldiers keep themselves covered," Fado heard Ephraim say to the left of him, "send out a spy to locate them."

"As you wish," Seth answered. Fado stared down towards the port. The thought of crossing the Gradian Sea didn't appeal to him; he knew well enough how wild it could be and he, to his great embarrassment, became seasick very easily.

"Your Highness!" The group of leaders looked around them surprised. Fado heard the flapping of wings and looked up; high above them a pegasus knight made to land. "Your Highness, I have an urgent message from Frelia." The young woman stopped in front of them and saluted. She dismounted with military precision and pulled a small stack of letters from her saddlebag – meanwhile Ephraim and Seth dismounted as well. After a moment of hesitation, Fado followed their example. It was still awkward that Ephraim was the commander and that all military correspondence was addressed at him. Some habits died hard.

"Prince Ephraim," the woman said, saluted again and offered Ephraim the letters, "there was an uprising in Carcino. Councilman Pablo is leading a force of renegade Grado supporters in rebellion."

"In Carcino?" Ephraim answered. Fado's heart jumped up into his throat. "Any word of Eirika? Is my sister safe?" Fado could barely hold still; as long as he had thought that Eirika was relatively safe, he had been quite alright with her single campaign. But he couldn't let her be in real danger… His skin felt clammy.

"The last word we received had Princess Eirika heading to assist Prince Innes. We've not heard from her since." Fado's heart sunk again.

"Blast," Ephraim hissed. Fado could only silently agree with him. Restlessly, Fado let his gaze wander around. They couldn't just let this happen. There had to be a way to help Eirika. "If I had known that, I would've never let her go. If I could, I would pull out of here and look for her…"

Fado froze. He agreed with Ephraim's wish; there was almost nothing more important than making sure that Eirika was safe. But they were not just on a little outing with picnic. They were waging war and in enemy territory. If they turned away now, Renais would be lost. Grado would gain more power and overrun them. Then all would die. They couldn't go; they had to fight, even if it might cost one of them their life. All of them had accepted this responsibility when they had decided to march against Grado – even Eirika.

"Prince Ephraim," Seth said, his voice firm and full of warning. Fado was incredibly glad that Seth was there and could put his own thoughts into words. He wasn't sure he could ever bring himself to voice them.

"… I know, I know," Ephraim answered with a sigh. Fado nodded. "I mustn't let my emotions dictate my actions. If Carcino has allied itself with Grado, then defeating Grado is our best bet. We proceed as planned." Fado sighed relieved and threw a proud side glance at Ephraim. Maybe Ephraim wasn't a boy anymore after all; that was the decision of a man. Fado relaxed his shoulders.

_Besides, the messenger said Prince Innes is with Eirika. Even if she's not particularly strong, she's a bright girl. Together they can evade the rebellion._ He took a deep breath. _Yes, I need to keep my thoughts positive. I trust Eirika._

In the corner of his eyes, he saw that the messenger gave Seth the letters, mounted her pegasus and rode towards the end of the army, where the others pegasus knights were.

Suddenly Fado almost lost balance; the earth beneath their feet shook. The horses neighed nervously and two even tried to flee. Their confused riders could barely hold the panicked animals. After a few seconds, the quake died away again.

"What?" Ephraim said surprised. "A quake? I think it passed."

"Your Majesty?" Karl said lowly. Fado turned to him. "Are you alright?" The old knight had put his hand on Fado's back to support him.

"Of course," Fado answered and shook off Karl's hand. "That was just a small jolt." Fado stuck out his chin. _As if such a tiny quake could shake me._ He had been in Grado often enough to know its odd peculiarities; besides, he could never forget that there were sudden earth quakes in Grado. Not after Vigarde had laughed himself to tears because Fado had clung to him in fear after his first quake. Even now Fado felt that same embarrassment and anger when he thought about that memory. He had been on his way to become a man and then a small, ridiculous quake had reduced him to a childlike coward. But maybe it wouldn't have been so embarrassing if he hadn't had such a big mouth before that.

Fado sighed and shook his head. Now was not really the time to get lost in memories. He turned back to Seth and Ephraim.

"We must press forward," Ephraim said, eyes directed forwards at the town. "We must see the capital."

"Well said." Fado nodded to his son. Ephraim offered him a grim smile.

"Seth, let the men know that the riders and footmen will come with us. The pegasi will protect the air and the support will stay in the new district. It can protect them for a while." Seth nodded and turned away.

Fado held his breath; he was expected to stay back with them. He was expected to stay back like a coward, or like a weakling, or like a defenceless child. He swallowed – his mouth had grown dry. He had known that it would not be easy to step back, but that everything in him rebelled against the mere thought…

"Father?" He threw a quick glance at Ephraim; his son's face was guarded. "Would you lead the convoy to safety? They and the inhabitants of the district might need your guidance and experience."

Fado's eyes widened slightly. What was that? Did Ephraim just say that to convince him to go and be safe? Or did he actually trust him and was earnest? _And why am I doubting Ephraim so much?_ "Gladly," he answered with a genuine, unsure smile. It didn't matter why, in the end. The feeling to be a leader again and to protect his subordinates was too good to waste the opportunity.

"Thank you, Father."

###

The town of Bethroen had a peculiar history; it consisted of three districts which had all the markings of an independent town. The commercial district was the one situated directly by the port. There the wares from the ships were sold, the townspeople had their shops there and most of the taverns and pubs were circling the quays. The genteel district was located slightly northern of the commercial centre. There lived a good half of the town's population. Both districts had their own main hall and city wall as well as their own small armoury. A few hundred years ago the former towns had struggled and in an ingenious moment decided to merge. And so they prospered again; eventually the town of Bethroen had grown so much that a new district was needed. To continue the tradition, the third district also had a city wall and armoury, but no main hall. It was called the mountain district because it was slightly elevated on its small hill.

To this district Fado was riding with the convoy, the temporarily incapacitated soldiers and a handful of capable guards in tow. The grand wooden door of the city wall was closed; Fado ordered one of the soldiers to knock. The sound was deep and at first met with silence.

"Open the gate!" Fado called and waited. Eventually, they heard the creaking of wooden gears and the door opened slightly. A man stepped out; he wore his black hair short and his clothes were mended at a few places, but still made of better material.

"Who are you and what's your business?" he asked. Fado quickly looked over him; nervousness and fear was obvious in his stance – resting his fists on his hips, standing with his legs too far apart, head held unnaturally high.

"I'm King Fado of Renais and ask for shelter." The man hesitated and looked confused over his shoulder; Fado couldn't see if there was anyone behind it.

"Even if that's true," the man said when he looked forward again, "we don't want any of you soldiers in here. Keep your war away from us."

Fado nudged his mare to step closer to the man – he straightened and quickly crossed his arms. "We are not here to cause any of you harm," Fado said gently but firmly, "nor will we let anyone harm you. These here," he gestured to the men and women behind him, "are people of Renais who want to stop the war and the fighting. None of us want any unnecessary bloodshed."

"H-How do I know that?" The man threw a quick glance over the small convoy. "They say that you torture your prisoners before killing them." Fado straightened, his fist clenching around his reins. _How _dare_ anyone_–

"You have my word!" He quickly released a deep breath to calm down; the townsman looked at him with fear in his eyes. "You have my word. If any of these soldiers should harm you, I will personally pay for them. Their crimes are my crimes. You may punish _me_ should they misbehave." The man looked at him with eyes as big as saucers. Fado held his gaze and only heard how Karl rode closer.

"Your Ma–"

"Grant us the protection of your city walls and you will not regret it. We will keep you save," Fado repeated. The man threw a quick glance over his shoulder and then stuck out his chest.

"Alright, come in." Behind him the gears started to move again and the door swung open.

"Your Majesty," Karl whispered.

"I was perfectly serious," Fado said and nudged his horse.

The wagons were left in the district centre where a handful of young boys were ordered to bring the horses food and water. Each of them was rewarded with a few gold coins. Fado oversaw everything but there was no need to intervene; the settling down was peacefully.

The man who had talked to them revealed himself as the warden of the district. After making sure that everyone was behaving, he showed Fado the stairs leading up on the city wall. "They're 'bit dangerous," the man said, scratching his neck. He had marginally relaxed. "We normally don't need to get up there."

Fado inspected the stone stairs closely; they were uneven and at many places the stone had splintered. Moss was growing from the wall onto the stairs. Additionally, the stairs were only almost half as broad as Fado. It would be a balancing act to get up there. _It's a challenge…_ Part of him licked his lips at the thought; after all, his balance was certainly good again. It was a bit harder to regain it, but he knew how his body and senses had changed by now. _Besides, the wall is not that high. I've survived worse –_ his right side made itself noticeable.

"Thank you," Fado said over his shoulder and looked around inconspicuously – Karl wasn't near. Fado turned back and smirked. With powerful and sure strides, he ascended the stone stairs. Once he felt a loose stone slip underneath his boot but he reached the top of the wall without any real problems. Grinning, he looked around. The district was not too big and he could easily discern the other side of the city wall behind the houses. The soldiers and townspeople on the centre square had stopped swarming about – all had settled in and were waiting for the battle to end or reach them.

On the other side of the wall, Fado could see the street they had been marching on. It was completely empty for miles. Turning his gaze towards the other two districts, Fado could already see the first victims of the fight. There in the distance the first bodies were lying on the street. Squinting his eyes, they all looked the same to Fado. He cursed himself for not taking a telescope with him.

Carefully, he walked towards the gate; he would be able to see more from there. Quickly he reached the bulge of the wall at the door; beneath him were the gears and other mechanisms, which opened the gate. Here Fado could stand a bit more relaxed. He let his gaze roam again.

He could see part of the port; there was the bulk of the fight. Wyverns and pegasi sped through the sky and fought with each other or plunged down to surprise a poor foot soldier. Fado gritted his teeth. His heart accelerated and his skin was tingling just by the sight of it – his hand twitched and wondered why he was not holding a sword and participating. Fado breathed long and deep. All of his being, every tiny part of him, yearned to be a warrior again and be in the fight and feel the adrenalin coursing through his veins. Everything else faded away – worries, insecurity, the peace, his daughter's and everybody else's safety – all that didn't exist in his heart anymore. His mind was deaf to anything but the sounds of battle. There was only greedy battle lust pulsing in his flesh.

A dark ache suddenly spread in his chest. His lusty breathing broke and he ripped his gaze away from the fight. He slapped his hand over his eyes, massaging them. "No. No, no," he repeated. The ache faded and Fado was disgusted. Had that truly been his own thoughts? He lowered his hand so that it was covering his mouth; cold shivers ran over his back. Could he truly think something like that? Forsaking everybody else just so that he could be happy again? _Even Eirika?_ He shook his head until he felt a tad woozy.

He waited for a few moments until his body had calmed down. Then he looked up again; the fight had progressed well. The Renaitian and Frelian troupes had gained the upper hand and were pushing back the Gradians. Fado sighed relieved.

"Your Majesty!" Fado looked over his shoulder. An angry Karl was carefully walking towards him; balancing with his arms stretched out, the knight was obviously uncomfortable being on such a badly-maintained wall.

"Karl, aren't you too old for such shenanigans?"

The knight seemingly thought it was alright to glare at one's king in such a situation. "Please come with me. It's far too dangerous here."

Fado grinned. "I'm feeling very safe here. I like the breeze." Karl's face darkened and whitened at the same time. Amused, Fado watched as the knight struggled to find an appropriate answer. Suddenly something behind Karl caught Fado's attention; in the corner of his eyes, Fado had noticed a flash of red and metal between the light trees. "Enemies," he exclaimed surprised. Immediately, all anger disappeared from Karl's face and the old knight whirled his head around. "Gradian soldiers!" Fado quickly pushed past Karl – carefully so that he didn't push his friend down the wall – and hastened towards the stairs.

A small group of Gradian knights had appeared on the street and were riding towards the commercial district. They weren't heavily armed and mostly units that could move quickly so Fado guessed they were scouts. Even though they were no great threat, their sudden appearance might confuse Ephraim's soldier and break up their formation. Even a few moments of confusion could turn around the whole battle!

Fado flew down the stairs – Karl was following much more carefully and slower. He ran to the convoy. "Archers!" All soldiers that were able to sprang to their feet. "Archers up on the wall!" Fado yelled and the first men were running to grab their weapons. "Grads are coming from the north to ambush our troupes." A few archers already ran past him. "Keep them off as long as you can!"

Karl had reached him by now. "Cavaliers and soldiers!" Fado continued and the rest of the soldiers stood at attention. "To the gate! Should any of those bastards even think of coming here, take care of them. No Gradian soldier will ever set foot into these walls!"

"Yes, sir!" answered the soldiers in a chaotic chorus.

"Karl, go with them." The old knight saluted sharply and went to fetch his horse and weapons. Just as Fado watched him and the last of the soldiers run off to the gate, the warden of the district came towards him. Fado threw a smile at him. "Tell your men and women that they're safe."

"Are you sure?" The warden wrung his hands. Fado clasped his shoulder tightly.

"Yes." Without another word, Fado turned and hastened back onto the city wall.

###

It was more than noticeable that the wall had been built by people who knew only peace and ill-organised bandits. Only a crouching child would be protected by the merlons. Fado knelt next to the commander of the archers, directly at the stairs. The Gradian soldiers were slowly marching closer, chatting and laughing. Their guard was down – nobody had warned them about the Frelian and Renaitian army.

"Shall we wait until they have passed?" the commander asked.

"No, don't let them get far enough that the fighting forces see them. I don't want them get distracted." None of the scouts were armed with bows, as far as Fado could see. "If possible, take all of them down. The less the soldiers at the gate have to do, the better."

"Yes, sir," the commander answered and whispered orders to his men. Fado slipped back onto the stairs to leave the archers more space. He was rather confident that this would neither be hard nor risky.

But again he could only wait. _Even if I had my arm, I would have to wait. I would've done the same then_, he told himself. Though… maybe he'd be waiting at the gate then, with his sword in hand, feeling the unrelenting steel beneath his fingers. He closed his eyes, his hand trembling and breathing quickening. Hearing the leather and armour creak and scrape, and the tense breathing of the soldiers around him. Feeling the weight of the metal on his shoulders, his arms, his legs. Smelling the sweat and blood and fear and death–

Fado startled. _Death?! How can I feel so– _he couldn't voice it, not even in his thoughts –_ by the thought of death?_ He spat over his shoulder down the wall. His heart, all of his inner organs, were shaking with disgust. Fado swallowed and looked over to the archers. They were already aiming.

All the bows drawn, the deadly arrows pointing at the bodies of men, all that looked oddly fascinating and… beautiful. The glinting metal, the dark wood, the dirty feathers. He could remember exactly how the pressure of a bowstring felt on his fingers.

"Now!" The image was broken – the arrows went flying and Fado heard screams of pain. They finally shook him awake.

He jumped to his feet to look over the wall; these were real people. People with feelings and lives and he was being disgusting. _This is reality. War is not beautiful._ The first line of Gradian soldiers had fallen; he forced himself to look at the writhing or still bodies and asked mentally every one of them for forgiveness for his thoughts. As the archers grabbed their next arrows, the scouts panicly tried to get back in formation.

"Don't let them flee!" Fado yelled. _I'm sorry. I pray that you'll find peace with the Goddess._ A shower of arrows rained down on the Gradians and the next line fell. Only one cavalier and one footsoldier were left. The footsoldier dropped his sword and ran. The rider whirled his head around – fear was so overtly written on his face that even Fado could see it. A stifled cry slipped from the man's throat before a lucky arrow pierced his right eye. Fado looked on as the body fell and the horse startled and fled.

"Good work," he said and turned to walk down the stairs. "Return to the square."

"Yes, sir," called several archers.

With an uncomfortable pressure on his chest, Fado called over a young girl and asked her to tell the good news to the soldiers at the gate. She ran with a broad grin on her face. _Her world is still small_, Fado thought as he strolled towards the convoy. _She just knows that her family is safe. But what the dead thought, what drove them…that's not her concern._

The townspeople were cheering when he arrived. He saw relieved mothers and fathers hug their children, young boys jumping and clapping, and a few girls dancing around. Only seconds after taking that image in, he heard Karl come up. In the corners of his eyes, he could see the soldiers caring for their mounts or weapons.

"The mission was a success," Karl mentioned as he stood next to Fado and looked around. "We have won the people's trust now." Fado just nodded. "My King, is something the matter?"

Fado tilted his head. He could barely understand himself what was going on. Where were all these disgusting feelings coming from? Where did this unconcern for others, this cold-bloodedness come from? "No."

"Are you sure? If I can be of any service–"

"I know," Fado interrupted the old knight, "and if I have any problem you can help me with, I'll come." He saw that Karl regarded him sceptically. After a moment, however, the knight looked away and together they watched the ongoings for a while.

Fado recounted the moment on the wall again and again. He wanted to find out where these feelings were coming from and how he could destroy them. He already felt bad enough with his missing arm, he didn't need this disgust as well. But no matter from which angle he examined his feelings, he couldn't grasp them; they felt so alien, so divorced from himself that he didn't understand.

"Do you think I'm ruthless?" Karl startled extraordinarily. Fado threw him a side glance.

"Your Majesty," Karl was truly alarmed, "how could you ever believe that? You're one of the most generous and friendly lords I know. I can't think of anyone who would call you 'ruthless'. Why are you asking, Your Majesty?" Every word of the question was carefully pronounced.

_Because maybe I am. It's the only explanation I have_. Fado hesitated. "I…" He licked his lips and looked up at the sky. A few white clouds were hiding a good part of the sun, but it was still pleasantly warm. "I was thinking earlier about my… situation." Fado turned on his heels and walked away from the square and the crowd. He heard Karl following him. "I want to be like I was before." He hesitated again; how was he supposed to put these thoughts into the right words? Even in his head they sounded so incredibly wrong.

"That is understandable. There might be several problems with carrying it out but it is a good motivation."

Fado's mouth twitched. _Good? No, it isn't._ He sighed. Suddenly Karl sped up and was now walking next to Fado. Fado was being watched closely now. "You don't know what I'm thinking." Fado lowered his gaze. And maybe he didn't want Karl to know his thoughts. Wouldn't it be the best to keep them forever to himself? Why bother other people with his disgusting thoughts?

"Then please tell me." To Fado's great surprise, Karl grabbed his shoulder and held him back. Fado threw a confused look at him. "Please," the old knight repeated. The wrinkles on his face had deepened horrifyingly. Fado couldn't hold his gaze.

"I would give everything to be me again." His heart beat hard against his throat. "Even everything I love."

"I don't… understand."

"When I think about fighting then my wish to be my old self becomes so strong that everything else becomes unimportant. I would sacrifice everybody for my wish then. Even … Ephraim and Eirika." For a second Karl's grip on his shoulder tightened.

In that moment, Fado understood: he was afraid. He couldn't believe that he would ever feel better again. In the past he had known exactly who he was and what was his duty. But now, everything was different. He could no longer be the Warrior King – he was only king. He wasn't needed in this war; Ephraim took care of everything. He was only dragged along because he had thrown a tantrum. Who was he now? What was his task? Was he even still worth anything?

In the past, everything had been clear. He would give everything to have that security back.

"I-I'm sorry, Fado." The grip on his shoulder loosened. "I do not know what to answer." Karl's voice felt oddly reassuring and soothing. Fado looked up at the knight; his forehead seemed to only consist of lines. "I wish I could help you see that it isn't hopeless. You never… you were always open about changing and I was the one opposing you. This role is very unusual to me." Fado's mouth twitched upwards. "But," the knight shifted and his forehead straightened so that he looked his age again, "if you allow, let me help you with becoming yourself again. No, better. Become something better. Together we can do it."

Fado was staring at Karl. The old knight's hope wasn't reflected in his expression, but still the sickness in Fado's body faded. As long as someone still had trust in him, Fado could live off that confidence, couldn't he? Even if it was wholly artificial and just pretension?

"I don't have anything to lose, do I?" Fado mumbled, a lopsided smile creeping on his face.

"Weren't you the one who told his father that not all change was bad?"

Fado nodded. "Yes, but back then I was never affected the change. I was always… just myself. I never needed to truly change myself."

"Well, then it's no surprise that you're scared." In less than a second, all of Fado's negativity and vulnerability was replaced by bristling, embarrassment and hurt pride.

"Don't you ever dare saying that again." Sticking his chin out, he glared at Karl. The old knight smiled back, completely unimpressed.

"Your Majesty, you have to learn to accept the truth."

Fado huffed and his anger instantly cooled at the sight of Karl's amusement. "I don't have to listen to some run-of-the-mill knight."

"I'm sorry you think that." There was even the hint of a grin on Karl's face. "I have an idea. Until now we haven't done anything to return you to your old state. Maybe we should have a match."

"A match?" Fado just knew that he was shining with excitement.

"Yes, a duel." Karl nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If we work together, your fear will disappear in no time." A grin spread slowly over Fado's face. In a wide motion, he slung his arm around Karl's neck and pulled the knight into a crushing hug.

"I knew you were a great guy," Fado said, laughing loudly.

"Thank you, sir," Karl answered as he patted Fado's back.

"We should start tonight."

"As you wish."

"Yes. Yes, I do wish that."


	7. Chapter 7

OMG my chapters get shorter and shorter D8 Alright, the one after this is a bit longer, I believe. I just stop when it fits and that's not orderly.

**Summary**: In which Fado loses it and is miraculously happy in the end.

* * *

_Fado had always known that he was proud; he had never thought that he was arrogant or thought too highly of himself, though. By now, he shouldn't be surprised that he was proven wrong again._

Not long after Fado's conversation with Karl, a messenger arrived. He reported that the town was secured and General Duessel arrested. Fado had immediately stormed off after giving the command over to Karl. The knight had wanted to protest, but Fado didn't listen. There was nothing to fear anyway; as Fado hurried towards the commercial district, he only passed Frelian soldiers collecting their wounded and dead. A short man with a grim and fierce expression watched them – he looked vaguely familiar to Fado but he couldn't place him.

The commercial district was almost deadly silent – only moans from the wounded or dying pierced the air. While looking around for Ephraim and General Duessel, Fado noticed that all houses were still tightly shut. Bethroen could've been a ghost town.

As Fado turned a corner, he spotted his son standing at the quay. And next to Ephraim stood an older man with dark crimson armour. General Duessel's hair looked greyer than Fado remembered.

"Ephraim!" Fado called. The two turned to him surprised and General Duessel immediately bowed deeply as he recognized Fado.

"King Fado." Duessel looked at him with apparent disbelief. "How can it be?" Fado came to a stop in front of him.

"What happened to Vigarde?" The general hesitated. Fado didn't have the nerve for any formality or politeness. His heart was drumming wildly in his ears. He was getting answers. They were so close he could almost touch them. His body was burning with excitement and impatience.

"Father, General Duessel just wanted to tell me what he knows." Fado threw a restless glance at his son. Anger surged through him as he saw how calm Ephraim was. _Calm down,_ he reprimanded himself, _he has other priorities._ Not that that made Fado feel much better. "You said he suddenly changed," Ephraim prompted.

Duessel's eyes lingered on Fado for a second before he turned his attention back to Ephraim. "Yes, from one day to the other the emperor was completely changed."

"How so," Fado interrupted.

"He suddenly ordered the army to gather. His whole behaviour was different." Duessel cleared his throat and looked out at the sea. "He was suddenly secretive and very aloof. He sent everyone but Prince Lyon away and would no longer confer with us generals." He shook his head.

"But why did he change?" Ephraim asked. "What happened?"

"I wish I knew. But if you're looking for a likely cause, I have one. This all seems to have begun when Prince Lyon and the mages created a strange gemstone they referred to as the Dark Stone."

"The Dark Stone?" Fado and Ephraim asked simultaneously.

"Yes, that's what the clerics and the prince called it. Now, I'm just a soldier. I don't know anything about these magic things. But they said the Dark Stone is more powerful even than the Sacred Stones."

"Where did they get it from?" Fado asked, crunching up his forehead. "There is no power in Magvel that is stronger than the Sacred Stones. What kind of devil's work is this?"

"If the Dark Stone is stronger than the Sacred Stones," Ephraim thought aloud, "then …"

"… Ephraim?" said a small voice. Fado startled terribly and looked around for the speaker.

"Myrrh?" A small girl stood behind Ephraim. She had been standing close to a low stone wall, which had hidden her from Fado's sight. The girl named Myrrh threw a shy glance up at Fado. Her eyes were big and round and made her look very young but there was something strange about them; Fado couldn't say what it was, but he took a step away from her.

"The wave of evil I felt surging from the capital… It hungers… It consumes. It envelops and transforms. This power can tarnish the purest of souls with its corruption," she said in her low voice and hid behind Ephraim, maybe from Fado's glare. He didn't want to glare, but he couldn't relax his face.

"Who is that?" Fado asked.

"This is Myrrh." Ephraim turned to him again. "She's one of the Manakete."

"Manakete?" Fado frowned deeper, looked at Ephraim, then the girl and back to his son.

"I'll explain it to you later." Ephraim turned to Myrrh again, putting his hand protectively on her shoulder. "So the Dark Stone could be the reason for Emperor Vigarde's madness?"

"Madness," Fado hissed under his breath. He was sure this was not just madness. This person he had met in the capital was someone else. Madness didn't erase someone's memory. A mad person would never be this chillingly calm. No, there had to be more behind it.

"Where is the stone now?"

"Prince Lyon carries it with him at all time," Duessel answered.

"Lyon's in the capital. Then we're going there. Maybe together we can restore the emperor."

Ephraim and Duessel continued the conversation, but Fado was no longer listening. He was wrestling with these new informations. They were no answer. The question who was posing as Vigarde, who was responsible for Fado's situation – who took Fado's old life from him – was still left unanswered. Disappointment quickly turned into seething anger. He thought he had been close, but of course they had to throw another obstacle before his feet.

He could no longer stand still and paced up and down. His hand automatically moved to his back – he stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed that he couldn't clasp his hands behind his back. Fado growled lowly, swung his hand forward and let it hover there, not exactly sure where to put it. Eventually, he stuck it in his belt again and continued to pace about.

"Father, please calm yourself." Fado stopped again dead in his tracks. He forced his face to remain expressionless as he looked at his son. "We'll soon find out the truth."

"What did you say?" His voice was flat and he tilted his head in disbelief.

"We have more time later to discuss the news. Now we have to organise our stay and find a ship." Ephraim threw a glance at Duessel. "How did you cross the sea?"

"Our ship has left already. But there is a merchant ship, if I recall correctly." Fado breathed out deeply. His blood was still boiling. To be disrespected by his son in this way–

Fado stepped close to Ephraim; the boy startled barely noticeably. "Do not ever talk to me like that again," Fado whispered. Ephraim took a breath and straightened, staring directly back into Fado's green eyes.

"The soldiers were already looking worried at your reaction and we don't need a hesitant army." Heat shot through Fado again; embarrassment about his lack of foresight and anger at his son's audacity – however justified – mingled and shut down his rationality.

"Be glad," Fado whispered as he leaned closer to Ephraim so that Duessel wouldn't hear him, "that it would harm the moral of the army even more if their commander would be disciplined like the disrespectful brat that he is."

In a matter of seconds the calmness disappeared from Ephraim's face. The stony countenance he had worn since they had been reunited in Fort Lochmol was finally crumbling. "Your hothead would've destroy the moral long ago with your antics."

"My hothead?" Fado hissed. "As if a rookie like you would be able to lead an army on your own. Without Seth you would've been long lost." Ephraim's eyes were ablaze.

"And you couldn't even managed it _with_ Seth." Fado's anger froze; a cold wave of hurt washed over his heated body. He swallowed hard and pressed together his lips tightly.

"I can't believe that someone like you is my son." Ephraim's face smoothed back into a cold expression, probably mirroring Fado's own. Fado turned, no longer able to look at Ephraim's face that looked too much like his own, and walked away. Somewhere towards the mountain district. Or somewhere else, he didn't care. He couldn't believe that Ephraim, his son, the boy he himself had always loved and cared for, would intentionally take advantage of his weaknesses and personally drive the knife deeper into his sore wounds.

Disappointment clouded his head until he almost walked into Karl. In a daze, he let the old knight guide him to the Port Inn. The officers and other important people would sleep there and the soldiers would erect a camp just outside the town. They would embark on the ship early next morning. Fado spoke no word until he was in his room and Karl was gone.

Then Fado slumped on the bed and the fog of disappointment dispersed. Waves of shame washed over him and hurled him to the ground. _How could I lose my self-control so?_ He painfully regretted every word he had spoken. Ephraim had been right and in his situation Fado would've done the same. But he had lashed out and pushed his son away – even though he needed his trust. He needed the strength that Ephraim's presence could give him.

"I'm sorry, Ephraim." He knew he would have to say that to Ephraim in person later, but now he could not do it. His limbs seemed to weigh tons. The day had tired him so much. He couldn't remember any other time where his mood had gone haywire and exhausted him like this. With each passing day, he felt less and less like himself. Falling back onto the bed, Fado stared at the ceiling. While his body was resting, Fado's mind beat him down until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

###

Fado's sleep couldn't have been long; he still felt horrible when Karl woke him up for supper. He refused to go down to eat with the others so the Inn Keeper brought a tray with meat, vegetables, potatoes and a bottle of wine into Fado's room. Fado watched grumpily as Karl cut up the food. That was another advantage of eating alone; nobody could see how he had to be babied. Swallowing mouthfuls of wine – it was not particularly good and obviously mixed with water – to wash out the stale taste clinging to his tongue, Fado slowly regained something akin to a neutral mood.

Wordlessly, Fado took a seat at the small table and quickly cleared his plates. Karl was standing by the door and waiting. "Have you eaten already?" Fado asked, throwing a short glance over at the knight.

"Yes. I've been in the camp until a few minutes ago. I needed to supervise my unit. They're still inexperienced and have little discipline." Fado hesitated slightly. "I was assigned the unit Madam Linnéa and Sir Lajos are also part of, as you surely remember." Fado didn't and felt resentment for Karl's reminder.

"Of course," he replied curtly and downed the last bit of wine. Rapidly tapping his fingers on the wooden table, he reclined. Inwardly, he was more than fidgety. The food and wine had driven away all of his tiredness. He felt cramped and locked up in this small and ugly inn room. His tirelessly working mind was unfortunately affecting his body.

"Your Majesty?" Fado stood up and threw a flat look at Karl. "Maybe we should postpone our spar. You seem to be–"

"No, no," Fado interrupted him and actually felt his mood lightening; exercise always managed to clear his head and cheer him up. "That would be perfect right now."

"Very well." Karl was smiling lightly. "I have organized two blunt swords. We can go any time." Fado quickly threw over a thicker tunic – it was dark outside and the nights were growing colder – and let Karl lead the way.

They had to pass the main room of the inn to get out. Fado threw a very quick glance in, but didn't see Ephraim. He felt guilty about his relief at that realisation. When he stepped out into the late evening, Fado took a deep breath. It reeked of algae and port water, but was still more refreshing than the air of the inn.

Karl waited patiently for Fado. After a second of admiring the stars on the sea-blue sky, Fado turned to him. His heart shot up to his throat as he saw the two swords in Karl's hand. Involuntarily, his hand shot forward. "Give me one," he commanded. He hoped none of his strange excitement tainted his voice.

"As you wish."

Pure calm flowed through Fado's veins as his palm touched the sword hilt. He gripped it tightly; the leather of the hilt pressed delightfully against his skin. Fado sighed deeply – his palm had grown softer after many weeks of neglect. The rough leather almost tickled him. And the weight – the familiar weight of a regular sized sword. Heavier than a rapier – Fado had never liked them – but lighter than a two-hander – but he liked those.

"Your Majesty?" Fado startled as if he had been awoken from a dream. He could just feel how a grin fell from his face. Karl was regarding him curiously, but not surprised. He gestured down the dark road. "Will you come?"

"Yes, yes," Fado mumbled and returned his eyes to the sword. It was by no means nice; it was old, dented horribly and as plain as it could be. But to Fado it was the most beautiful thing in Magvel. "Let's go." With élan, Fado followed the knight.

Their way was not long. They merely rounded the inn and walked down one street. Behind it was a marketplace – the district marketplace, not the big one at the quays. It was not paved and surrounded by regular houses. There was a big fire in the centre and a few torches at the street corners.

As Fado took in the place, his grin immediately plunged to death. There were several people sparring. A group of five to his left, a couple just across the square and another couple sitting to the right at a street corner. Karl hadn't immediately noticed that Fado had stopped in his tracks.

"Is something the matter, Your Majesty?" he asked over his shoulder.

Fado gritted his teeth. He had almost reached his goal – he was on his way to become a warrior again and now–

"Do you truly believe I want to make myself a fool in front of them?" Fado hissed. Karl frowned, his expression openly confused. Heat tickled under Fado's skin. His gaze flittered over the training soldiers. They were all fighting and knew their steps and could hold their own and had no problems with the handling of their sword– Sickness rolled up from his stomach to his mouth. They would be highly amused by the sight of the cripple trying to be a warrior. They would see him struggle and fail and lose. He could well imagine how they would laugh – not when he could see them, but when they were alone.

"Your Majesty, I don't understand," Karl said and stepped closer. "Have any of them offended you?" Clenching his teeth – first on the left, then on the right side –, Fado straightened unconsciously.

"We're going somewhere else." Fado already turned on his heels. The weight of the sword suddenly dragged down his arm. Like an anchor tying him to this soon-to-be embarrassing scene.

"Wait." Karl grabbed Fado's arm. The king glowered at him. Startled, Karl let go and stared at Fado. "Your Majesty, what is wrong?" He gestured towards the soldiers. "They're here to do the same as we. They cannot be any distraction." Fado struggled to remain calm.

"I said we go somewhere else."

"No, we can't." Fado couldn't believe his ears. "It's still too dangerous. We may have conquered the town, but who knows if not some of the civilians sympathise too much with the emperor. We can't risk letting you run around alone." Fado turned slowly.

"You disobey your king?" He saw Karl swallow and hesitate. "Then come already." Fado was already a few steps away, when Karl answered.

"Your Majesty, you cannot go." Fado ignored him. He would go to some deserted place where he could be alone and where he would be the only one to see him fail. No danger could make him stay _there_. He had just reached the corner of the inn, when he felt a vice-like grip on his arm. Karl had caught up. "I've enough!" Before Fado could react, he was whirled around.

"What do you think you're doing?" Fado snarled.

"Enough of this!" The biting anger in Karl's eyes made Fado hesitate for a second and so enabled Karl to start ranting. "I have enough. I'll be frank now, Fado, as it seems that you don't get it otherwise. I was lenient, I know. I've seen you struggle with yourself and seen your pain. I tried my best to support you so that you would recover quickly. I was confident that it would be just a short matter of time and that you would be again the king that I remember. I tolerated your antics because I thought it would help you to adjust."

Fado stared at him with wide eyes, unable to formulate even just thoughts in return.

"But all you're doing is behaving like a brat. I'm sorry to be so harsh, but you're not just changed but completely turned up-side down. And it doesn't even seem like you're trying." Fado's heart halted for a second. Anger, however, and frustration immediately brought it back to life.

"You think I'm not trying!?" Fado shot back. Karl had made the mistake to stop for breathing. "I'm doing nothing but trying, but nothing helps. Every day I'm trying, but I don't make any progress. Do you think I like this? That I enjoy all your pitiful looks!" This strange vibrant feeling in his chest– it wasn't anger anymore. It was something far colder.

"No," Karl answered lowly. Fado's breathing shook as he looked at the knight, unconsciously absorbing the calmness. "But I think you're not trying the right thing."

"The 'right thing'?" Fado spat, incredulous. "You don't know what's right for me."

"Maybe," Karl admitted and bowed his head, "but I know that you're wasting your energy." Fado's mouth snapped close. "You're trying with all your might to be your old self. You said so yourself. But that is impossible." A slight pressure pushed against Fado's throat. "We agreed to turn you into a different but better version of yourself, remember? But you haven't accepted that."

"Stop acting as if you know my thoughts." Fado turned away. His heart beat far too guiltily in his ears.

"You hate asking for help. Especially for things you think you should be able to do yourself." Karl's words pierced his heart. "You always did." Fado dropped his gaze; his body felt heavy again. He wanted to get away – he didn't want to hear this. "But now you have to. At least for a while. You have to get used to the fact that you have to work your way up again." Fado sighed shakily. He heard Karl step closer. "Your Majesty, they won't look down at you for failing at first. They'll be impressed that you don't just lean back and do nothing." Fado pressed close his mouth and eyes.

He couldn't believe him. Of course they would laugh when he would embarrass himself and look worse than someone who've never held a sword. He couldn't bear the thought that anybody would think of him as an incapable fool.

"You don't believe me, I see," Karl eventually said quietly. Fado opened his mouth; on the one hand to deny it, on the other to agree and explain himself. "Your Majesty, might I suggest something?" Fado's voice was stuck in his throat so he just nodded. "Trust me this once and let us train with the others. Should I be proven wrong, I promise to comply with all of your further commands without any objection."

_Into what have I degenerated?_ Fado's mouth was stale and dry and his head swimming. _I've turned into a coward. All of my actions have been driven by fear. Fear that people might look differently at me and think me weak. But… _He slowly looked up; Karl was watching him closely. _Isn't cowardice the true weakness? If I shy away from possible failure and do nothing, I can never achieve anything._

"I'd rather try and be laughed at," he mumbled – Karl leaned closer to hear him better –, "than never try and be pitied." Karl smiled sympathetically and nodded. Fado lowered his gaze; that was easier said than done. "Remind me of that," he said a tad louder and looked into Karl's blue eyes, "when I despair next time, alright? I might… forget."

To Fado's surprise, Karl knelt down, his right hand on his heart. "I swear, Your Majesty."

"Oh, stand up," Fado answered, strained as he tried to make his voice sound light. "A simple promise would've been enough." Karl smiled when he straightened.

"Then let us spar now." Karl gestured towards the small marketplace. Though Fado's heart was still beating painfully with anxiety and insecurity, he walked towards it. Karl's presence on his new sword side gave him a smidgen of confidence. Maybe that would be enough for this training session.

Karl chose a space that was not in the immediate field of vision of the other people. In front of a pretty, simple house, he rested his sword against the wall so that he could put on his gloves. Fado looked around nervously. Only the couple at the crossing, a young man and an equally young woman, had noticed them. "Your Majesty, let us start with the basics."

Fado released a strained breath and stared at his sword. He needed to shut them out. His thoughts needed to all focus on the sword and the sword alone. Closing his eyes, Fado tilted back his head and breathed in deeply.

He raised the sword, pointing the tip at the throat of an imaginary foe. The weight of the sword – the main stress in his hand, balancing on his first two fingers, the gradual lightening – was familiar and alien at the same time. He knew this feeling perfectly well, just mirror-inverted. His forehead twitched once with irritation. He assured himself that this would be the easiest adjustment and his forehead straightened out.

Carefully, he tipped the tip of the sword inwardly; gently, the hilt pressed against his thumb. This feeling was the same – familiar and alien. He weight it outwards and there it was the same.

Fado opened his eyes. "I'm ready," he said with a nod to Karl.

"Very well." Karl picked up his sword and shifted so that he was in a protecting stance. "Then let us begin with the first routine."

Fado shifted his feet. The first routine consisted of three attacks; left, upper left and left again. As he was now fighting with his left hand, this would be quite a problem. In contrast to regular soldiers who were all fighting with their right, he couldn't strike out from over his left shoulder. To strike he had to move his arm back, drop his defence and open the way to his vulnerable chest, and swing the sword up – in that moment, his grip on the sword was the weakest. Either he needed to twist his wrist back or show his palm to the enemy. In any way, he was terribly vulnerable. And the attack from the upper left was even worse. If he wanted to gain speed, he'd need to raise his arm up straight and leave his side and chest unguarded. Not to speak of how incredibly awkward that motion was.

Fado mulled over these questions a few seconds before he decided to stop thinking and to trust his instincts. _It has always worked before, hasn't it?_ Growling low in his throat, Fado swung back his arm violently and lunged. His sword smashed loudly against Karl's. The knight was unfazed, but Fado startled. The force – a teeny, tiny force that was nothing like what he remembered from himself – had almost slapped his sword out of his hand. Frowning, he corrected his grip. "Again." Karl just nodded.

Fado shifted into position again. The upper half of his sword was in his field of vision; the metal glinted reddish in the light of the fires. Like red sparks, they flickered over the dark grey. Fado breathed deeply and slowly. He twisted his wrist lightly.

Again he lunged, again the swords sung. Fado's grip had been better, but the sword still reared up. Fado shook his head and again resumed his starting position. _Then with the palm back._ He twisted his wrist further so that the back of his hand was towards Karl.

He lunged and this time his grip remained firm. Fado was smiling when he stepped back. His thumb had prevented the hilt from slipping. It was uncomfortable, but he could get used to that. "Very good, sir," Karl said. Fado grinned – he agreed with Karl. That had actually been easier than he had thought. _Then maybe all won't be as bad as I think._ His heart jittered with pride and excitement.

"Now the upper left."

This attack took quite long; Fado couldn't find a good way to keep his grip and put at least a bit of strength behind the strike. He was a tad frustrated at that, but it didn't make him despair.

Somehow, somewhere had the success of the first strike found his ambition. Like a heap of white ash that with the help of a tiny breeze began to glow red again, it flared through Fado's mind. He could think about nothing else but manoeuvres, swords, different techniques, series of attacks and how he could convert them.

He had long forgot that he was not alone and that it was growing very late. He overheard Karl's reminders of the time – involuntarily and voluntarily – and it was only when the last other pair of training people were extinguishing the big fire that Fado awoke from his stupor. Lowering the blade, he looked around. The sky was pitch-black and most of the rooms of the inn were dark.

Karl was looking slightly disgruntled. Fado smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He was positively sure that even though Karl had not adhered to his day schedule, he would get over it. They would be caged up on a ship for the next days. They couldn't train there with the ground shaking and moving beneath them.

Karl wordlessly turned when he noticed that Fado was paying attention to him. Amused, Fado followed him back to his room in the inn. Karl quickly helped him to get into his night clothes and only after the knight had been gone for several minutes did Fado remember that Karl had to sleep in the camp. Now, he felt vaguely guilty for detaining his friend for so long, but in the end he didn't have much time to think about that. For once, he was tired for a good reason and gladly let sleep carry him away.


	8. Chapter 8

Did I promise more positive chapters? I think I did. This is kinda positive? And I think I also said there would be more action. Next chapter, really! :P

Summary: The army finally leaves Bethroen.

* * *

_He had never truly liked the sea; watching the peaceful tide at the Frelian beaches was nice, but riding through an angry sea on a ship with little space? A small nightmare._

Fado awoke with a bright mood and incredibly sore muscles. His whole upper body throbbed lightly with pain, even though he was still lying motionlessly. Fado laughed out loud, disbelievingly. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt like that after a training session – and such a short one at that. Groaning, he pushed himself up. His arm trembled under the strain, but for once that didn't bother him. After all, he had earned that stiffness.

Fado paused on the edge of the bed to look out of the window. The sun was already shining brightly. He had again slept too long for his taste. He resolved to change that soon. With another groan, Fado stood up. His back protested when he stretched his arm. Sighing deeply, he walked over to the small mirror – a luxury in this inn – over the wash basin.

He chuckled when he saw his wild hair; his strange cowlicks were acting up. He let his gaze travel over his features. A tired man was looking back at him, his face still a bit pale due to his as-of-yet little exposure to the sun and with a handful of new lines around his eyes. His cheeks were slightly sunken, but he was obviously recovering. His upper lip was almost completely hidden by his beard – Fado stroked and tugged at it, and resolved to cut it later. But even though his mirror-self definitely looked a bit tired and sick, his eyes were shining again. This was no longer a broken man.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Fado turned away. _What am I thinking about?_ he asked himself while trying to slick back his hair into some kind of controlled state. He stepped to the window and peered out. There were a few people mingling on the streets; mostly men and a few women, but no children.

Fado nodded to himself and turned away. _They'll be free of us soon enough._ He looked around for breakfast, but it didn't seem like anybody had been here yet. Fado wondered if thanks to yesterday, Karl's schedule had been thrown in such a disarray that he had no time for him, but that was not particularly probable. Maybe there would be a guard he could ask for Karl at the door.

Fado was correct; when he opened the door, there was standing a man in brownish armour. He turned as he heard the door and Fado immediately noticed the pegasus crest on his chest plate. "Fetch Sir Karl for me."

"Yes, Sir." The soldier bowed and disappeared down the floor. Fado nodded contented and decided to limber up his sore muscles while waiting.

Only a few minutes later, there was a timid knocking. "Enter," Fado called and could already guess who his visitor was. The door was carefully pushed open and revealed Iustus, who was struggling with a big tray.

"Good morning," Iustus said breathlessly as he slowly walked over to the small desk. Fado smiled gently. "Sir Karl said I should take care of –" Iustus stopped to swallow and dropped his gaze, "of helping you in the morning again. If you allow it."

"Of course. Karl has much to do." Fado silently admitted that he was a tad disappointed, but he'd rather not show it. He had the feeling that the boy would think he had done something wrong. Instead, Fado smiled at Iustus again and sat down. Behind the pot of tea, plate with sausage, potatoes and egg, and a piece of bread, Fado noticed something that made his heart beat in his ears.

"Sir Karl gave those to me," Iustus explained and took up the letters. "He said they came yesterday, but there was no opportunity to give them to you." Fado wanted to be angry at Karl for that nonsense – he could've woken him at any time or at least told him about them – but the sight of the handwriting and the seal made being anything but happy quite difficult.

"Give them to me." Grinning broadly, Fado accepted the two letters. One was quite thick and the other much smaller and with a more hurried handwriting. The first had the same date as the one he had received several days ago; it was the promised detailed letter. The other one was dated just two days ago. Probably written hastily after Fado's response had arrived.

"Uh, Your Majesty?"

"Yes?" Fado answered absentmindedly and opened the first letter.

"I'm supposed to fetch something. May I… go? Or do you need something else?"

"No, no, you may go." Fado barely listened as he was already skimming the first lines of the letter.

"Alright." Fado assumed that Iustus bowed and then silently left the room for he heard no more from the boy. While his tea and food gradually grew colder, Fado got completely lost in the letters.

The first paragraphs read exactly like an official correspondence. Fado smiled to himself; of course, Hayden would first update Fado's informations. He quite enjoyed that, actually. Lately he had been far too concerned with his own affairs so he heard little about the recent happenings. Ephraim had told him his side of the story at Fort Lochmol, sure, but this here was different.

Fado read carefully; Renais had completely fallen. The army was destroyed and the little groups of soldiers who had been able to flee were hunted like game. Fado gritted his teeth as he read of the destruction of the border cities and the burning of the villages and fields. Something especially caught his eyes.

"_No information about your survival has left the capital. Grado managed to silence all witnesses._"

Fado looked up, shaking his head. "That cannot be," he mumbled. "There were so many…" He could still see them when he closed his eyes. The people who looked up at him – beaten, hopeless and afraid. "They couldn't make them all–" His tongue got stuck. Drawing in a panicked gulp, Fado shook his head. "They wouldn't. They surely wouldn't." He looked around, searching for anything or anyone that would contradict his fear.

"No–" He clasped his hand over his eyes, the paper lightly stroking his skin. "They wouldn't be so cruel." But still, the marketplace in his mind was gleaming red and covered with– He forced himself to forget it – he wouldn't believe that until he had seen it for himself. Quickly and with a wildly beating heart, Fado continued reading.

He was quite relieved when Hayden didn't write more about the capital but recapped what Frelia had done until now. Fado was smiling again when he reached the personal part. With joy, he read about his friend's relief, sympathies, and even his worries. They all made him happy and hopeful. When he had finished that letter, he actually read it again – the personal part at least.

Unwillingly, he put it aside and picked up the other letter. The handwriting on the inside was just as hurried as the address.

"Fado!" Fado actually recoiled at the strange beginning. "Why is it that I have to hear from my messenger what kind of injury you have incurred? Do you have any idea how I looked like when she told me? That some stranger should know before I do? Am I not your closest friend?" Fado had to put down the letter; it was hard to breathe. Blinking his eyes quickly, he tried to somehow calm down. His ears were ringing as if Hayden was personally standing in front of him and yelling. He shook his head to get rid of that image and feeling. His hand trembled as he picked up the paper again.

"Why have you not told me? If you'd told me, I'd –" There was a rather big ink stain obscuring the next words – if there had been any. Hayden had ended the paragraph there by, what it seemed, throwing down his pen. The next paragraph was written much more neatly. He had probably taken a walk or smoked to calm down until he continued.

Fado put the letter down; he needed his hand to rest his head on. Feeling showers of coldness washing over his body and fearing the worst, he read on.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I shouldn't even send this letter. But I'm too agitated to start anew. How are you?" Fado whipped up his head, drawing in a trembling breath. His eyes were swimming. _Get a grip on yourself, man._ Breathing in and out slowly, he pressed back his emotions. "I cannot imagine how you are dealing with your state of health. Your letter had been so positive and I can't help but feel now that you more than downplayed your wound. I truly, truly hope that you are dealing well with it but I worry."

"Be damned." His eyes were stinging horribly.

"I beg you, Fado, tell me the truth. Let me be your support just as you have always been my support."

"Goodness, Hayden," Fado exclaimed and shook his head, "you can't write like that." He laughed and his laugh sounded decidedly wet. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Fado cleared his gaze. "Don't do that to me. I've wanted to be strong."

He had to put the letter away unfinished. Too many emotions were choking him and the letters were all indistinguishable specks of black anyway. Picking up his cup, he tried to drown his unshed tears – he shuddered. The cold tea was disgusting.

Fado groaned. His breakfast was stone-cold. "You've cost me my breakfast, Hayden," he said to the letters and sighed. He decided to quickly force down the food and then try to think about a response. Eating might be a good enough distraction for now.

He had been ashamed of his missing arm. That was why he hadn't mentioned it in his letter. He should've known that Hayden would find out. There had been actually no doubt that Hayden would find out, but Fado had successfully driven away that thought. Involuntarily, Fado stopped chewing on his cold eggs. He had suppressed the thought because he had wished that Hayden would never know. He wished that his friend would still see him as the man he had been before. Fado didn't want Hayden to see what he had become. And how he despised himself now.

Fado cared very much about Hayden's opinion. Should he look down on him for his weakness– should he pity him like the others did… Fado didn't know what he would do. _Would I still be able to go on?_

A knock on the door startled Fado out of his reverie. Looking about confused, Fado stumbled over his own tongue. His "Come in" was so slurred, he could be drunk.

"I'm back." Iustus slipped in, holding a big parcel in his arms.

"What's that?" Fado asked and turned away from the food; he was no longer hungry. The boy placed the parcel on the bed and fumbled with the rope holding it together.

"It's new clothing." Iustus threw a look over his shoulder. "Sir Karl sent someone to a tailor to get you your own clothes. So that you don't have to wear borrowed things anymore." It was true that since the flight from the castle he had always worn the clothes of someone else. Though buying fitting clothes would've been the last thing on Fado's mind.

The knot finally yielded and Iustus pulled off the rough cloth keeping everything together. Fado watched as the boy laid everything out. Still, he was a bit relieved. He disliked wearing somebody else's clothes. "Sir Karl said that you should wear clothes more befitting a king. Your Majesty," Iustus added startled and guiltily looked down. Fado smiled lopsidedly.

"Tell Karl my thanks." Iustus nodded quickly.

"Will you dress now?"

"Sure," Fado sighed.

As Iustus picked up one of the shirts and unfolded it, Fado froze for a second, hovering comically over the chair. His eyes widened; the right sleeve was missing. The hole for the arm had been skilfully closed. The boy looked at him, frowning with insecurity. "What is it…?" Fado could only stare at the shirt. He couldn't find any words able to express what was going through his mind – especially as he didn't know what was going through his mind. "Is something not right with the clothes?" Insecurely, Iustus looked at the green shirt in his hands.

"N-no," Fado said, shaking his head. "I was just… surprised."

"It was Sir Karl's order," Iustus added and looked like a deer at arrowpoint.

"It's alright." Fado had recovered and was all friendliness again.

The rest of the morning routine went over well. Iustus was a bit clumsy, but Fado was patient. It was clear that the boy had never before worked as a manservant. The new clothes felt strange at first; there was no longer a useless piece of cloth hanging from his right shoulder. There was no longer that useless piece of cloth to remind him of the fact that something of him was missing. He hadn't actively noticed that feeling before and how much it had bothered him but now that the source of this unconscious self-contempt was gone, he felt better.

While Fado contemplated these curious feelings, Iustus quickly and skilfully packed away the remaining clothes.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Hm?" Fado looked over his shoulder at the boy. "Ah, no, I believe." He stroked over his beard. He'd rather not trust the nervous youth with scissors; he wanted to keep his nose at least. "But do tell Karl that I need to see him." Iustus nodded, wished him a good day and slipped out of the room. Fado sat back down and his gaze fell on the letters. He sighed deeply and picked both up. Maybe he would have enough time to write a response. He wanted to confide in Hayden, but that was far easier in person than in letters.

After pushing away the disgusting food, he fished his writing supplies out of his personal bag – he had just kept the quill and ink bottle Seth had given him on the first day. His short struggle with the ink bottle and the laying out of the paper distracted his mind from his predicament. Only when he was all ready, the quill hovering over the yellowish paper, his throat shut tightly again. Breathing shakily with apprehension, he tried to focus.

He didn't even know how to start. How should he address Hayden? Formally? Informally? Calling him a good friend or a close friend? And how should he introduce the topic? Should he tell everything in chronological order or should he start with his current state? His hand trembled, spreading tiny drops of ink over the paper. Closing his eyes and hissing as if in pain, Fado rested his arm on the table.

_Stop thinking_, he reminded himself, _this is not working. Write first the most important part. Then the unnecessary parts._ And yet, he still couldn't lift the quill again. His doubts only wanted to stop him from writing down the truth. They didn't want to be confronted like this. On paper the fears were much more real; he could even touch them…

And worse, he couldn't write them down because someone else could see them. Not just Hayden, but other people who might see the letter as well, accidently or not. The risk that strangers might look into his mind like that was far too big. That fear was crippling.

"Come on, do it," Fado whispered, eyes still closed, and leaned back his head. "Do it already. Do it." Mumbling the same two words over and over again, his mind slowly calmed down. His doubts were gradually drowned out by his mantra, no matter how much they struggled. Mechanically, his hand grabbed the quill tighter and moved back to the paper. Opening his eyes slowly, still mumbling to himself, he put the tip of the pen onto the stiff paper.

_I was not well. I'm still not well._ Fado's breath hitched as he copied his thoughts onto the paper – there would be no thinking about phrasing. Nothing should come between his thoughts and the letter – or rather his thoughts and Hayden.

_Ever since I have awoken from the feverish delirium, I'm looking down on myself. I pity myself. I hate myself and that I'm so useless now. I cannot dress alone. I cannot eat alone. I seemingly cannot even make decisions on my own. I have become utterly useless. This is how I've thought since recovering my senses. I still think like this at times. It's hard not to._

"Damn!" Fado whipped up his head like a dreamer who had been woken up by a cold shower. Drawing hissing breaths, he inwardly yelled at himself for tearing up.

_But I can at least assure you that I have grown a bit more confident now. I was involved in the battle yesterday. It was only the supply convoy and the wounded soldiers, but I could protect them. I could lead the guards against scouting Grads. While that occasion stirred more doubts in me, I was still glad and relieved. I was also able to train yesterday with Karl, my close subordinate. I don't know if you remember him. He always accompanied me on my visits to Frelia. I will be useless in most battles–_

Fado stopped again. That was true; even if he might grow stronger and more deftly, he would still always have a huge disadvantage against everybody else. He had no shield and would always be unprotected against his opponent's counters.

Groaning in frustration, Fado threw down his quill. Even the most positive and cheerful thing he could think of supported his uselessness. Carelessly folding the letter – effectively crumbling it – Fado stood and paced in the small inn room. The letter was supposed to reassure Hayden that Fado was well and would soon be again the person he once was – the person who was Hayden's close friend. But it only continued to highlight Fado's failings.

Fado sent a quick thank-you prayer up to the Goddess when a knock on the door distracted him from his hateful thinking. "Enter," he called quite forcefully.

Karl stepped in, bowed and actually smiled as he looked over Fado. "I see Iustus has already brought your new outfits."

Fado's mind reeled, quickly searching for what he could mean until he remembered his new clothes. "Yes, I quite enjoy them." He chided himself for his stupidity; that he could be that distracted by– He'd rather not think about that any more. "I must thank you for them."

Karl bowed again. "There is no need for thanks, Your Majesty. I only did what I thought to be my duty. Iustus is not the steward you need at the moment." Fado huffed in agreement. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," Fado answered and looked around. He wasn't sure if he even had scissors. "I want you to cut my beard. Iustus was far too skittish earlier."

"As you wish." If Karl was surprised, Fado wasn't sure. His voice definitely sounded a bit different. "I'll fetch the necessary instruments." With that he slipped out of the room.

While waiting, Fado picked up his letter. It was painfully unfinished. But now as he looked down at his hasty and almost unreadable scribbling, he didn't think he would ever be able to sign it. This was just too– he didn't know what it was, but it was a horrible thing that should never leave this room. His mind reminded him of the always burning fireplace down in the dining room.

Before he could decide on any course of action, though, Karl reappeared, a pair of sharp scissors and a soft brush in his hand.

"Is that one of King Hayden's letters?" he asked carefully.

"No," Fado answered sharply and threw the sheet back onto the table. "It's rubbish." He turned his back to it and smiled at Karl. The knight's eyebrows drew together for a second. His smile seemingly hadn't fooled Karl. "When will we sail?"

"In less than an hour," Karl said slowly. He placed the brush on the bed and stepped closer to Fado. "The provisions, weapons and horses are already on board. They're boarding the foot soldiers at the moment. Prince Ephraim and General Seth are monitoring them."

Fado swallowed nervously – he didn't like the thought of travelling by see – and tilted back his head to give better access to his moustache. Carefully, Karl grabbed Fado's chin and positioned the scissors. There was a quiet sound of metal scraping against metal as the scissor blades closed.

"I believe there would be enough time to finish the letter," Karl continued as he tried to make Fado's beard perfectly symmetrically. Thanks to Karl's perfectionism Fado could be sure that he would look good – or at least his facial hair. "There will be no more messages leaving today, though. The messenger for Frelia already left at sunrise."

"I don't have any letters to send," Fado answered irritated as Karl put down the scissors to brush the loose hair from Fado's lips and then moved on to the other side. Karl threw him a questioning look just before he made the next cut.

"Very well." They stayed silent until Karl had finished the cut. "I shall have a soldier take down your bags."

"Yes, do that," Fado answered, deep in thought again as he looked at the three letters lying on the table. Karl excused himself and left.

Unsure about what to do, Fado slowly picked up the letters. The one that made him happy, the one that made him despair and the one that made him hate himself. Quite a burden, which he quickly stuffed into the bag with his personal belongings, together with the quill and ink bottle; the ink on the quill had already dried up. Fado cursed himself for that stupidity, but he could do nothing about it now.

Now his mind was more occupied with the thought of going onto a ship. He foresaw much sickness in his future.

###

Fado could claim to be an expert on the general matter of warfare – despite living in mostly peaceful times, the topic had a very strong attraction for him. Common and uncommon strategies, the mathematics of travelling with thousands of soldiers, weapon studies; there was very little he didn't know about them. But ships had always stayed a mystery to him.

As he now looked up at the broad hull of the merchant vessel that was supposed to bring them over the sea, he couldn't say if the ship was any good. Neither the workmanship of the ship's body nor the rigging of the sails told him anything. Fado felt like a fool – an ignorant boy – as he watched the last unit of Frelian soldiers ascending into the vehicle of sickness. Fado could already vividly picture how he would stand at the railing later, staring out at the water and battling with his stomach. He grimaced.

"Is something the matter?" Seth had come and bowed his head in greetings.

"No," Fado answered, a light smile on his lips. "I was just thinking about how little I'm looking forward to this." He jerked his head once towards the looming ship. Seth smiled sympathetically.

"I understand."

"I see you remember our travel from Port Kiris to Rausten a good, what is it now, five years ago?" Seth nodded, his gaze lowered. Fado himself didn't like to remember it. He still hadn't forgiven the sea for that storm. Those had been the two most miserable days in his whole life.

"The captain said that the sea is always reasonably calm this time of the year," Seth said. Fado grimaced; that had never stopped him from becoming seasick. "It will only be two days at the most."

"I hope so," Fado sighed.

"I believe that is our sign to board." Fado looked over to the gangway. There was a man dressed in dark shirt and jacket. He wore an even blacker hat with broad brim. His breeches were white and his leather boots high. On first glance and from afar, Fado would've said he was a nobleman on his way to a hunt and almost wondered why that man was here. "That is Captain Leroy," Seth said as they set into motion.

Fado cleared his throat. "I see."

The captain bowed to Fado as they arrived. "An honour to convey you, sir," he said in a slightly lilting dialect. While Captain Leroy's face wore a perfectly neutral expression, Fado had the feeling that he was quite disgruntled over this little journey. Fado greeted him with a sharp nod and a friendly smile. Wordlessly, the captain gestured up the ship. Fado threw a glance at Seth, who seemed not too surprised but miffed at the captain's manners.

Taking in a deep gulp of air, Fado looked up the gangway. The wooden plank didn't look as safe as he guessed it was. Animals, tons of provisions and armoured men had already walked up there and it had carried them all. His mind was still filled with dread as he carefully ascended it. He could already feel the gentle swaying of the boat. The dark water lapping at the ship's body looked positively sinister.

Fado paused for a frightful second when he stood with both feet on the deck of the ship. There was bustle around him as the sailors were stowing away the cargo, preparing sails and rigging, and shooing away curious soldiers. From below Fado heard the neighing of horses and the sound of hundreds of feet walking over creaking wood.

The ground moved just the tiniest bit – a gentle sway from left to right. The waves in the port could do nothing more. And now already, Fado's stomach churned. He felt the bile rise up his throat. He took a step forward to let the last passengers board. Just as he lifted his foot, a bigger wave hit the side of the boat and he fell forward against a sailor.

Fado's ears reddened with embarrassment. The sailor shot him a dirty look, but didn't say anything as he pushed Fado upright. While Fado wallowed in his shame, the man continued and was almost immediately gone.

"Your Majesty, your cabin is below next to the captain's. Let me show you the way," Seth said from behind. Fado just nodded – it felt as if his stomach had crept up his rips and was just waiting at the edge of his mouth to leap out at the first opportunity. He glared at Seth's back as they descended into the belly of the ship. The knight was walking almost steadfastly while Fado had to take a hold on anything he could get to stay upright. Now that he couldn't balance himself out with his arms, he felt even more helpless. His dignity was at the mercy of the sea – and in his experience the sea didn't care about his reputation.

When they arrived at his cabin, Fado immediately sat down on the cot opposite of the door and leaned his head back against the wall. Overhead was an oil lamp which swung with every tiny wave and Fado immediately closed his eyes as he noticed that it wanted to entice him to relieve his stomach here and now.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes," Fado answered with his eyes still closed. His blood was pounding in his ears as another stronger wave splashed against the boat.

"There had been an proposal earlier about which I would like to inform you." Fado opened one eye to peek at Seth.

"So?"

"It was proposed that the boy Iustus might sleep with you in this cabin so that he can immediately support you should the need arise. As of yet he sleeps with the other healers close to the surgeon's quarters."

Fado raised one eyebrow. "You are actually asking me?" Seth cleared his throat, an expression of indignation flashing over his face for a second.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty–"

"No, no, it's alright," Fado interrupted him and waved his remark off, "I'm out of my mind." He hiccuped as another wave made the boat sway. He tasted stomach acid in the back of his mouth. He grimaced. "I–" But he couldn't finish his sentence as his sickness overcame him. Leaning forward, he spat his breakfast onto the floor of his cabin.

Coughing as the bile burned his throat, he sat up and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He felt slightly relieved but his stomach still twitched with irritation. Seth had knelt next to him, watching him concerned. Fado tried to smile at him, but he knew it was unconvincing. A moment later, a sailor entered with a bucket and mop in hand. Silently, he cleaned up the mess. Fado leaned back again, his eyes closed. They waited until the sailor was gone.

"Tell Iustus he can sleep here," Fado whispered.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Seth made to leave but Fado called him back. The knight looked down at his pale king with well-concealed curiosity – Fado, though, knew the knight well enough to see through him.

"Thank you for asking first." Seth just bowed deeply and then left. Fado sighed and wished that he had a glass of water to rinse out his mouth but that would have to wait until they had finally left the port. Resigned, he laid down on the cot and wished for the two days to pass as quickly and painless as possible.

###

Fado spent the rest of the first day in his cabin puking his soul out. At least it felt like that. Iustus stayed with him the whole time. Fado was quite touched by the boy's unwavering devotion. But he guessed that he just looked so pathetic that Iustus thought he couldn't be left alone. Still, he was very thankful for the boy's presence. Towards the night Linnéa came to look after Iustus. Her visit embarrassed Fado quite a bit, but her charm and lightheartedness quickly made him forget about any shame he might feel.

The next day, Fado felt marginally better. He was still staggering like a drunkard after a long night when he tried to walk, but he could control his stomach a bit better. He only ate a small bowl of sweet gruel for breakfast, which seemed to want to stay inside of him. Towards midday, Fado stepped out onto deck.

The fresh wind felt incredibly good on his hot skin. Down below the air was thick, heavy and moist from the sweat of hundreds of people. But here fresh, salty sea air whipped around him. He might have no understanding of seamanship, but he had an ear for music. The creaking of the wood below, the bellowing of the sails and the whirring of the rigging together resulted in an unique symphony of the sea. He could understand why people could love travelling by boat and if it were not for his horrible seasickness, he might even like it as well.

"Heave there!" called a sailor behind Fado. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Fado noticed that he was a bit in the way and walked over to the railing. Leaning on the sturdy wood, he looked out over the sea. All around the water was topped by white foam; the eastern breeze gently ruffled it like a father might ruffle his son's hair. The waves were tiny – no danger at all to any ship traversing between Bethroen and Taizel. They were only a danger to Fado's dignity.

Far, far on the horizon, Fado could discern the dark outline of the coast. Squinting his eyes against the wind, he watched how rapid the landscape appeared and disappeared. A mountain he had just discovered was long left behind in a second. Flat plains and tiny villages were flying by – or at least Fado knew there had to be villages; the ship was too far away to actually see them. While he knew it would've been unwise and dangerous to ride around the Gradian Sea, deep down he wished that they had taken the way via land. His stomach agreed with him.

Sighing deeply, Fado turned away and looked forward. The bow just rose as it glided over another wave. He swallowed quickly as the ship dipped down again. The familiar taste of bile crept into his mouth. He shook his head and forced himself to ignore it. Yesterday night he had managed to forget about his seasickness while talking with Linnéa. Maybe that was the key to a more comfortable journey by sea; distraction of anything concerning his stomach.

There in the distance was Grado Keep. Just that thought chilled Fado's mind and body. There on the imperial throne would sit the imposter. The man who was besmirching Vigarde's name, who was destroying the lives of so many people. As soon as they would arrive – as soon as they would throw him from the throne he had stolen – one of Fado's sorrows would be soothed.

Fado was too lost in his thoughts to notice the turquoise-haired youth in time. After their gazes met, it was too late to slip away. Ephraim hesitated for a second when he saw his father. Fado just stared back at him, his heart pounding against his ears and his chest. He hadn't seen his son since their fight on the quay. Like a coward had Fado avoided him. Guilt pressed against his throat and no amount of swallowing could make it disappear.

Ephraim looked away first, his face set in an emotionless mask, and continued his way as if he hadn't seen Fado. With every step that brought Ephraim closer to him, Fado's guilt grew. He knew he had to apologize. He had acted horribly, but dread, nay, fear was sewing his mouth close. His relationship with Ephraim had always been full of misunderstandings and miscommunication. For some reason it was incredibly hard to talk to him.

Ephraim spared him no glance as he walked past. Fado's chest began to hurt from the guilt and shame.

"Ephraim!" he snapped. His mouth had acted before his mind had come to any decision.

"Yes, Father?" Fado's blood seemed to throb in every part of his body as he struggled to find his tongue.

"Ephraim, please come–" He gestured helplessly towards the railing. He was still standing with his back to his son. "Stand with me for a moment." Tense as a bowstring he stood and waited for Ephraim's reaction.

"I'm supposed to meet up with Seth," Ephraim said after a moment. Fado shivered involuntarily.

"Just for a minute." He sounded impatient and irritated.

"Very well," Ephraim whispered and came closer. Seemingly unwilling, he stepped into Fado's sight and leaned against the railing. Expectantly but coldly, he looked at Fado and waited. As Fado looked back into his son's green eyes, he felt more nervous than he had ever before. He licked his lips and dropped his gaze. He turned towards the sea again and hastily tried to organize his thoughts.

"Ephraim, I need to talk about our–" he wasn't sure how to call it, "quarrel in Bethroen." Ephraim's silence unsettled him but now he couldn't escape this conversation anymore. "I – I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what I said." Fado dropped his gaze from the horizon down to the deep blue sea. The water was covered with white foam where the ship cut through it. He didn't dare to look up yet. "I was always proud of you, Ephraim, always. I love you and Eirika more than anything. Nothing you could do could ever erase that." He swallowed and threw a quick sideways glance at Ephraim. His son's face was still stony, but not like before. He no longer had that aura of anger and hurt.

Encouraged by that Fado straightened and put his hand on Ephraim's shoulder. "You were right," Fado mumbled. "I'm sorry, son. You're a very good leader." He even managed to smile. "I'm proud of what you've achieved until now."

"Thank you, Father," Ephraim answered quietly. Fado hesitated for a second – Ephraim didn't look at him but rather surveyed the sea as he had. But then the desire grew too great and Fado pulled his son closer, embracing him carefully. As he gently leaned his cheek against Ephraim's, Fado felt Ephraim raising his arms and returning the hug. The feeling of relief that washed through his whole body was incredible. He squeezed close his eyes to keep any of his emotions from escaping.

"I'm sorry for what I said as well," Ephraim whispered.

"'s alright," Fado answered and patted the back of Ephraim's head. As they both pulled back, a familiar urge overcame Fado. Maybe it was the massive relief, maybe it was a whiff of nostalgia, but Fado gave in. Before they could separate completely, Fado grabbed Ephraim's head, pulled him back again and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"Father," Ephraim chided, his voice indignant. Fado grinned broadly as Ephraim threw at him that exasperated and indignant look that the boy had always given him since he had decided at the age of eight that getting a kiss from your father was embarrassing. Fado couldn't help but laugh happily. Ephraim sighed good-naturedly and even smiled lightly.

They turned back to the sea after that and the silence between them was amiable.


End file.
